R-F-  FOSTER 


S:?H'*-^^  C/^^ 


CAB    No.    44 


By    R.    F.    FOSTER 

Author   of  "  Foster's    Complete    Hoyle,"    "Auction 
Bridge,"  Etc. 


FOURTH  EDITION 


NEW    YORK 

FREDERICK   A.    STOKES   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT.   1910,  BT 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT.  1909,  1910,  BT 
STREET  &  SMITH 


AH  rights  reserved 


January,  1910 


J 


CAB    NO.  44 


CHAPTER  I 

LATE  in  the  afternoon  of  a  clear  cold 
day  in  the  Fall,  the  usual  crowd  of 
loungers  was  scattered  through  the 
brilliantly  lighted  marble  corridor  that  formed 
the  men's  entrance  to  a  hotel  on  upper  Broad- 
way, New  York.  The  long  rows  of  leather- 
covered  easy-chairs  with  which  the  corridor  was 
lined  were  filled  with  men  in  various  attitudes 
of  indolence.  Some  of  the  men  were  smoking 
dreamily,  some  were  reading  the  afternoon 
papers,  while  others  were  chatting  to  friends  or 
telling  stories.  None  of  them  seemed  to  have 
anything  in  particular  to  do,  although  it  might 
have  appeared  to  an  impartial  observer  that  the 
business  in  which  the  occupants  of  all  these 
chairs  were  engaged  was  the  careful  scrutiny  of 
each  person  that  passed  along  the  corridor. 

At  the  street  end  stood  the  colored  porter, 
ready  to  swing  the  revolvihg  door  for  any  new- 
comer that  might  wish  to  enter,  while  the  man 


2135731 


2  Cab  No.  44 

at  the  cigar  counter,  just  inside,  gazed  absent- 
mindedly  out  of  the  window  at  the  passing 
throng  on  ever-busy  Broadway,  the  Great  White 
Way. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  corridor  the  clerk, 
standing  behind  the  counter,  which  is  called  by 
courtesy  a  desk,  seemed  to  be  dividing  his  time 
between  feeling  for  his  scarf-pin,  as  if  to  be  sure 
that  it  was  still  in  place,  and  keeping  his  eye 
on  the  elevator  boys,  who  were  lolling  lazily 
against  the  open  doors  of  their  cars. 

A  rather  showily  dressed  man,  apparently 
about  fifty,  clean  shaven,  with  bushy  eyebrows 
and  thick  lips,  strolled  up  to  the  desk  and  helped 
himself  to  a  match,  with  which  he  lit  a  cigar. 
Then  he  stuck  his  thumbs  into  the  armholes  of 
his  fancy  waistcoat,  leaned  his  back  against  the 
edge  of  the  desk  and  crossed  his  legs. 

"Rotten  cigar,"  he  remarked  to  the  clerk 
presently,  taking  it  out  of  his  mouth  and  look- 
ing at  it  critically. 

"You're  always  kicking  about  something," 
retorted  the  clerk,  with  a  smile  that  betokened 
old  acquaintance.  "Why  don't  you  buy  fifty- 
cent  cigars?  You  can  afford  it." 

Before  they  could  continue  the  conversation, 
their  attention  was  attracted  by  a  tall  young 
man,  in  evening  clothes,  who  had  just  stepped 


Cab  No.  44  3 

out  of  the  elevator,  where  he  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  taking  in  his  surroundings  with  a  rapid 
survey.  The  clerk  leaned  over  toward  the  man 
in  the  fancy  waistcoat  and  whispered:  "Just 
keep  your  eye  on  that  for  a  moment  and  you'll 
see  something." 

As  the  subject  of  this  observation  came 
toward  the  desk  he  gave  one  the  impression  that 
he  was  a  man  about  thirty,  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  movements  that  suggested  the 
strength  and  agility  of  athletic  training.  He 
looked  down  the  corridor  toward  Broadway, 
and  then  turned  round  and  went  out  at  the 
ladies'  entrance  on  the  side  street. 

"Looks  English  by  his  clothes,"  remarked 
the  man  in  the  waistcoat,  "but  he  isn't  a  blond. 
He's  got  about  the  blackest  hair  I've  seen  in 
some  time,  if  it  isn't  dyed.  I  suppose  it's  still 
the  fashion  to  wear  the  whole  suit  of  hair  over 
there,  mustache,  Vandyke  and  side  whiskers, 
just  because  the  king  wears  his  that  way."  He 
stroked  his  own  face  carefully,  as  if  to  assure 
himself  that  he  had  none  of  the  ornaments  to 
which  he  referred. 

"Never  mind  his  whiskers,"  said  the  clerk  in 
a  low  voice.  "Just  keep  your  eye  on  the  Broad- 
way door  for  a  minute." 

In  less  than  a  minute  from  the  time  the  dark 


4  Cab  No.  44 

young  man  with  the  Vandyke  beard  had  disap- 
peared through  the  ladies'  entrance,  he  came 
into  the  hotel  again  by  the  Broadway  door, 
walked  quickly  along  the  corridor,  scanning  the 
faces  right  and  left  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye, 
until  he  had  reached  the  ladies'  entrance  again. 
After  a  glance  through  the  glass  doors  up  and 
down  the  side  street,  he  turned  back  and  ap- 
proached the  desk. 

Handing  the  clerk  a  card,  he  asked  how  he 
should  reach  the  address  upon  it.  The  clerk 
had  hardly  taken  the  card  when,  to  the  English- 
man's evident  astonishment,  the  man  who  was 
leaning  against  the  desk  deliberately  reached 
over  and  grasped  it,  holding  his  cigar  in  the 
same  hand.  Before  the  clerk  had  time  to  open 
his  mouth,  the  smoker  remarked,  "Why,  that's 
in  Brooklyn,"  in  pretty  much  the  same  tone  that 
one  would  have  said,  "Why,  you  want  to  go  to 
Africa."  Handing  back  the  card  he  went  on 
glibly:  "Better  take  a  car  to  the  City  Hall,  and 
then  cross  the  Bridge.  Columbia  Heights  is 
somewhere  on  the  other  side.  Ask  your  way 
when  you  get  across.  I  never  was  in  Brooklyn, 
'cept  passing  through  it  to  get  to  Coney." 

The  Englishman  bowed  his  thanks,  drew  on 
his  gloves,  buttoned  his  top  coat,  and  walked 
briskly  toward  the  revolving  door,  running  the 


Cab  No.  44  5 

gantlet  of  the  loungers  at  each  side,  all  of 
whom  followed  him  with  their  eyes,  twisting 
their  necks  slowly  as  he  passed,  just  as  they  had 
twisted  them  fifty  times  before  during  the  last 
half  hour. 

Arrived  in  Brooklyn,  and  having  been  put 
down  at  a  dingy  corner  on  the  way  up  Fulton 
Street,  with  the  direction  to  walk  straight  up 
the  hill,  the  young  man  made  his  way  through 
a  street  of  curious  old-fashioned  houses,  with 
somber  brown-stone  fronts  and  odd-looking 
wooden  steps  and  handrails,  which  had  been 
placed  upon  the  stone  steps,  ready  for  the 
Winter's  coming  snow  storms. 

One  of  these  was  evidently  the  house  for 
which  he  was  looking,  and  after  a  careful 
scrutiny  of  the  numbers,  many  of  which  were 
painted  in  white  letters  upon  the  faces  of  the 
brown-stone  steps,  he  ran  nimbly  up  to  the  door 
of  a  comfortable,  roomy-looking  mansion  and 
rang  the  bell. 

At  an  office  in  the  city,  the  day  before,  he  had 
presented  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Mr.  Charles 
Ohlstrom,  who  had  invited  him  to  dinner.  The 
letter  was  from  Mr.  Ohlstrom's  brother,  who 
lived  in  the  Midlands.  All  it  said  was  that 
Hardy  Maxwell  was  a  fine  fellow,  a  native  of 
Warwick,  and  that  any  attention  to  him  during 


6  Cab  No.  44 

his  brief  visit  to  the  States  would  be  a  favor.  It 
was  this  dinner  engagement  that  Hardy  Max- 
well had  come  to  keep. 

Mr.  Ohlstrom's  daughter,  Helen,  had  asked 
a  few  questions  about  the  stranger  who  had 
brought  the  letter  from  her  uncle,  and  she  had 
come  to  the  conclusion,  from  her  father's  re- 
ports, that  he  was  just  an  ordinary  young  man, 
tall,  and  very  dark  for  an  Englishman. 

"I  don't  suppose  he  is  as  attractive  as  Mr. 
Lathrop,"  remarked  her  mother,  "but  then 
those  shocking  men  are  always  good-looking." 

"Well,  mother,  you  know  I  don't  believe  half 
the  stories  that  are  told  about  Mr.  Lathrop.  He 
always  treated  me  with  the  greatest  respect." 

"There  is  no  question  about  his  having  run 
away  with  another  man's  wife,  is  there?"  the 
mother  retorted  testily. 

"I  have  nothing  to  do  with  other  men's 
wives,"  Helen  answered.  "I  judge  my  friends 
by  their  conduct  toward  me." 

"Well,  we  won't  say  anything  more  about  it. 
You  girls  will  excuse  anything  in  a  handsome 
man,  but  I  trust  that  if  you  ever  meet  Mr. 
Lathrop  again  you  will  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him." 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  her 
mother  went  on : 


Cab  No.  44  7 

"Mr.  Maxwell  may  not  be  handsome,  but  as 
he  comes  with  an  introduction  from  your  father's 
brother,  he  is  probably  a  gentleman." 

The  girl  gave  another  shrug  of  her  pretty 
shoulders,  as  if  to  indicate  that  she  did  not  care 
much  about  Maxwell's  appearance.  In  fact,  she 
had  already  formed  a  mental  picture  of  some 
one  tall  and  lank,  with  loose-fitting  clothes,  and 
a  briar  pipe  in  his  mouth,  but  as  all  women  like 
to  please,  even  when  they  are  not  particularly 
interested,  and  as  there  always  seems  to  be 
'something  more  or  less  romantic  to  the  average 
American  young  woman  in  the  idea  of  meeting 
an  Englishman,  she  took  particular  pains  with 
her  toilet  when  she  dressed  for  dinner,  and 
looked  at  herself  in  the  mirror  a  great  deal 
oftener  than  was  necessary  as  the  hour  ap- 
proached at  which  Mr.  Maxwell  was  expected 
to  present  himself. 

Helen  Ohlstrom  was  tall  and  straight,  with  a 
slender  but  well-proportioned  figure.  She  had 
a  well-shaped  head  and  a  good,  straight  nose;  a 
good  width  between  the  eyes;  firm  lips,  and  that 
absolute  neatness  in  the  arrangement  of  the  hair 
which  one  somehow  or  other  always  associates 
with  a  woman  of  refinement.  The  hair  itself 
was  brown,  and  in  a  brilliant  light  one  could 
distinguish  that  peculiar  streak  of  lighter  shade, 


8!  Cab  No.  44 

almost  bronze,  which  is  said  to  indicate  the  com- 
bination of  the  ardent  lover  and  the  steadfast 
friend. 

Her  father  and  mother  were  chatting  with 
Maxwell  when  Helen  entered  the  room.  As 
the  stranger  stood  up  to  be  presented,  the  girl 
could  not  help  mingling  a  glance  of  admiration 
with  her  smile  of  welcome.  He  was  so  different 
from  the  person  she  had  pictured  to  herself;  so 
tall  and  straight,  with  his  black  hair  and  beard 
in  striking  contrast  to  the  snowy  whiteness  of 
his  tie  and  waistcoat.  As  she  put  out  her  hand 
their  eyes  met,  and  she  felt,  somehow,  that  she 
had  made  a  good  impression.  She  was  in  eve- 
ning dress,  the  modest,  girlish  cut  of  which  dis- 
closed a  beautiful  neck  and  arms  that  were 
round  and  white. 

Helen  sat  opposite  Maxwell  at  dinner,  a  cir- 
cumstance which  gave  her  an  opportunity  to 
make  further  mental  notes  concerning  his  ap- 
pearance. Most  of  the  men  she  knew  were 
clean  shaven,  and  while  the  black  mustache 
and  beard  struck  her  as  odd,  they  were  becom- 
ing, and  gave  a  certain  virility  to  the  face.  As 
to  the  other  features,  she  thought  it  would  be 
difficult  to  pick  out  any  that  was  striking  or 
peculiar.  When  she  looked  at  his  eyes  or  his 
nose  or  his  forehead,  they  appeared  very  much 


Cab  No.  44  9 

like  other  men's.  How  characteristic  the  chin 
that  was  concealed  by  the  Vandyke  beard  might 
be  she  could  only  guess.  The  whole  expression 
of  his  face,  while  pleasing,  especially  when  he 
talked,  seemed  devoid  of  any  distinguishing 
trait.  It  was  a  face  that  one  could  not  easily 
fix  in  the  memory  except  for  the  mustache  and 
the  beard. 

After  dinner  a  married  couple  of  mature 
age,  friends  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ohlstrom, 
dropped  in.  The  woman  lost  no  time  in  stating 
the  object  of  her  visit,  which  was  to  play  dupli- 
cate whist. 

"Just  a  few  boards,"  she  insisted.  "I  am  sure 
Mr.  Maxwell  won't  mind.  We  can  play  twelve 
up  and  back.  I  am  just  dying  to  try  that  new 
plain-suit  echo." 

After  profuse  excuses  to  the  young  English- 
man for  what  they  assured  him  would  be 
only  a  brief  interruption,  the  four  older  per- 
sons sat  down  to  their  game,  the  visitors 
shuffling  the  cards  and  marking  the  trump 
slips  with  an  energy  which  betrayed  the  ruling 
passion. 

Helen  led  Maxwell  to  the  other  end  of  the 
drawing-room,  where  she  played  for  him  a  little 
— disjointed  bits  of  melody,  interlarded  with 
small  talk,  in  which  they  mentioned  the  newest 


io  Cab  No.  44 

books  and  the  latest  plays.  At  first  there  was 
a  slight  constraint,  of  which  the  girl  was  quickly 
conscious.  Maxwell  responded  to  all  her  con- 
versational ventures  without  contributing  any 
clue  to  his  own  personality.  He  told  her  abso- 
lutely nothing  about  himself,  yet  he  looked  at 
her  with  frank  eyes,  and  when  he  smiled  she 
saw  something  in  his  face  which  inspired  ab- 
solute confidence — a  fearlessness  in  which 
strength,  tenderness  and  honesty  appeared  to  be 
mingled.  As  he  leaned  against  the  piano  look- 
ing down  at  her,  she  noticed  that  he  had  a  re- 
pose of  manner  seldom  possessed  by  her  own 
countrymen.  He  stood  so  still  and  gazed  at 
her  so  disconcertingly  that  she  ended  her  playing 
rather  abruptly  with  a  crash  of  chords  that  was 
struck  with  the  mischievous  intention  of  startling 
him.  He  seemed  to  read  her  thought,  for  he 
ismiled  comprehendingly. 

"That  was  the  signal  that  I  have  reached  the 
end  of  my  international  topics  for  drawing-room 
conversation,"  Helen  announced,  with  an  art- 
less challenge  in  her  tone.  "Now  it  is  your  turn 
to  talk,  and  mine  to  assent  meekly  to  everything 
you  say." 

She  chose  a  high-backed  chair  in  front  of  the 
fire,  which  was  burning  merrily  in  the  open  grate, 


Cab  No.  44  ir 

and  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  invited  Maxwell 
to  take  a  seat  near  her. 

"If  you  will  allow  me  to  suggest  it,  I  think  the 
most  interesting  subject  that  you  could  discuss 
would  be  yourself,"  he  said,  resting  his  elbow 
on  the  arm  of  the  chair  and  shading  his  eyes 
from  the  firelight,  so  that  he  could  gaze  at  her 
when  she  least  suspected  that  he  was  watching 
her.  "You  know  I  have  heard  so  much  about 
American  girls  and  their  individuality,  so  you 
will  pardon  me  if  I  tell  you  that  I  am  glad 
your  stock  of  conventional  small  talk  is  ex- 
hausted." 

Helen's  face  flushed  as  she  answered  in  a 
bantering  tone  which  thinly  disguised  her  re- 
sentment : 

"I  decline  to  be  studied  as  a  type,  even  though 
I  might  furnish  amusement  for  my  father's 
guest.  You  disappoint  me.  I  thought  you 
might  be  different  from  the  usual  Englishman 
who  analyzes  us  and  puts  a  label  on  us  to  dis- 
tinguish us  from  his  sisters." 

Maxwell  made  haste  to  apologize. 

"I  confess  that  I  have  labeled  you,"  he 
added,  "and  I  hope  that  I  may  know  you  well 
enough  some  day  to  explain  just  how  I  have 
classified  you." 

The  girl's  color  deepened.    Involuntarily  she 


12  Cab  No.  44 

raised  her  eyes  to  his.  Although  they  looked  at 
each  other  for  a  moment  only,  the  glance  estab- 
lished a  subtle  understanding. 

Helen  broke  the  awkwardness  of  the  silence 
by  some  commonplace  remark,  and  then  the  con- 
versation drifted  pleasantly  until  it  carried  them 
back  to  themselves.  Gradually  Helen  told 
Maxwell  many  things  about  her  life,  so  smooth 
and  so  uneventful  that  she  was  often  restless  be- 
cause of  its  monotony.  She  confessed  that  now 
and  then  she  longed  for  something  that  would 
disturb  the  course  of  her  well-ordered  social 
existence.  Her  father  and  mother,  who  be- 
longed in  thought  and  sympathy  to  their  own 
generation,  and  not  to  hers,  were  over-indul- 
gent, she  admitted,  but  they  held  her  closely  to 
their  own  small  circle  of  friends,  and  they  did 
not  seem  to  realize  that  she  was  a  woman  of 
progressive  ideas  and  independent  character. 

"You  do  not  look  at  all  strong-minded,"  re- 
marked Maxwell,  with  a  glance  that  took  ac- 
count of  the  tenderness  and  sweetness  indicated 
by  the  rounding  of  the  chin  and  the  curve  of 
the  lips. 

"Indeed,  I  am  not  strong-minded,  and  do  not 
want  to  be,"  she  hastened  to  say.  "And  I  can- 
not imagine  why  some  people  insist  that  I  am 
stubborn,  unless  it  is  because  I  stick  up  for  my 


Cab  No.  44  13 

friends    when  I  hear  any  one  running    them 
down." 

"Perhaps  what  they  call  stubbornness  is  really 
firmness,"  Maxwell  urged.  "I  think  that  firm- 
ness in  loyalty  to  one's  friends  is  a  very  desir- 
able quality.  If  that  is  what  your  people  find 
fault  with,  I  trust  that  I  may  some  day  be  one 
of  those  on  whose  account  your  firmness  will  be 
manifested." 

Although  she  turned  the  subject  at  once,  she 
did  not  seem  displeased,  and  after  that  they 
chatted  for  an  hour  or  so,  gradually  paying  less 
and  less  attention  to  what  they  said.  There  is 
something  in  the  mere  physical  presence  of 
young  persons  that  seems  to  fill  them  with  a 
sense  of  happiness  and  content,  regardless  of 
what  they  talk  about.  Probably  that  is  why, 
when  they  get  older,  they  wonder  what  they 
found  to  say  to  each  other  in  all  those  hours 
that  they  passed  together. 

As  Helen,  nestling  into  the  comfortable  old 
arm-chair,  sat  there,  looking  sometimes  into  the 
fire  and  sometimes  at  her  companion,  the  flicker- 
ing light  from  the  grate  set  her  off  to  advan- 
tage. Maxwell,  it  must  be  confessed,  looked  at 
her  a  good  deal  more  than  at  the  fire,  his  glance 
sometimes  following  the  outline  of  her  arms, 
sometimes  lingering  upon  the  contour  of  her 


14  Cab  No.  44 

face,  the  curve  of  her  neck  and  the  slant  of  her 
shoulders,  and  then  falling  to  the  taper  fingers 
that  were  idly  toying  with  the  tassel  on  the  arm 
of  her  chair. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  before  the  twelve  boards 
had  been  played  "up  and  back,"  and  the  visitors 
had  acknowledged  defeat  by  eight  tricks.  Max- 
well rose  to  go  when  the  card-players  took  their 
departure,  his  adieux  being  smothered  by  an  al- 
tercation between  the  whist-players  about  the 
play  of  the  king  of  clubs  on  board  five,  which 
had  cost  two  tricks. 

The  door  had  scarcely  closed  behind  Max- 
well when  Helen  Ohlstrom  turned  to  her 
mother  to  remark  enthusiastically  that  she 
thought  he  was  "awfully  nice."  And  then  she 
took  a  long  look  at  herself  in  the  hall  mirror, 
and  wondered  what  impression  she  had  made 
upon  him.  "I  do  hope  he  will  come  again," 
she  added  to  her  mother.  "You  know  I  always 
thought  Englishmen  were  conceited,  and  that 
they  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  girls ;  but  he 
is  certainly  very  agreeable." 

"I  thought  he  was  rather  quiet  at  the  table," 
remarked  Mrs.  Ohlstrom.  "He  smiles  respon- 
sively  when  you  speak  to  him,  and  he  listens 
very  attentively;  but  I  like  people  that  talk  a 
little  more.  Those  Englishmen  all  travel  a 


Cab  No.  44  15! 

good  deal,  and  he  must  have  seen  a  lot  of  things 
to  talk  about.  What  is  he  doing  over  here,  I 
wonder?  Your  uncle  did  not  say." 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.     I  didn't  ask  him." 

"Didn't  he  say  anything  about  himself  or  his 
friends,  or  what  he  hoped  to  do  here?" 

Helen  shook  her  head  dreamily.  She  was 
thinking  of  the  way  in  which  he  had  looked  at 
her,  and  of  how  well  he  seemed  to  understand 
her.  There  was  something  in  his  manner  that 
was  sympathetic,  but  she  had  to  confess  aloud 
that  she  had  done  most  of  the  talking  herself, 
and  had  told  him  "lots  of  things"  without  get- 
ting any  information  in  return.  "I  hate  men 
that  are  always  talking  about  themselves,  any- 
way," she  declared  defensively  when  she  saw  a 
puzzled  look  on  her  mother's  face. 

Before  Mrs.  Ohlstrom  could  reply  her  hus- 
band joined  them  again,  after  a  visit  to  the 
library  to  get  a  cigar. 

"That  Maxwell  seems  a  very  decent  sort  of 
fellow,"  he  observed.  "We  must  have  him  up 
again.  I  suppose  you  asked  him  to  call?"  He 
smiled  at  Helen  as  he  asked  her  mother  the 
question. 

"What  is  his  business  over  here?"  demanded 
Mrs.  Ohlstrom.  Her  husband  stopped  to  think 


i'6  Cab  No.  44 

as  he  puffed  at  his  cigar.  Then  he  had  to  con- 
fess : 

"I  don't  know  exactly.  Fact  is,  I  didn't  ask 
him.  Seems  queer  kind  of  chap  in  some  things. 
After  dinner  I  tried  to  draw  him  out  a  bit  while 
I  finished  my  cigar.  Spoke  to  him  about  Bill 
Whittridge  and  Tom  Richardson;  but  he  didn't 
seem  to  know  either  of  them.  Funny,  too,  they 
are  such  close  friends  of  Uncle  Charlie's,  you 
know.  He  talks  like  a  man  that  had  something 
on  his  mind."  Seeing  the  look  of  inquiry  on  his 
wife's  face,  he  added  hastily:  "Oh,  well,  it's 
all  right.  I  have  Charlie's  word  for  him.  Be- 
sides, I  think  I  know  a  man  when  I  see  one.  I 
have  rather  taken  a  fancy  to  Maxwell.  Pe> 
haps  I'm  prejudiced  in  his  favor  because  I'm 
English  myself." 

Mr.  Ohlstrom,  stout,  bald-headed  and  good- 
natured,  dismissed  the  subject  with  a  whiff  of  his 
cigar  and  Helen  kissed  him  good-night. 


CHAPTER  II 

RETURNING  to  the  hotel,  and  finding 
it  only  eleven  o'clock,  Maxwell 
strolled  into  the  billiard  room  to 
watch  the  players  for  awhile.  The  way  in  which 
his  face  expressed  his  opinion  of  the  various 
shots  showed  that  he  was  familiar  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  game,  however  strange  the  appear- 
ance and  proportions  of  the  balls  and  table 
might  be. 

He  had  not  been  sitting  there  more  than  a 
few  minutes  when  the  man  with  the  loud  waist- 
coat, who  had  directed  him  to  Brooklyn  earlier 
in  the  evening,  strolled  into  the  room,  and  im- 
mediately came  over  to  where  he  was  sitting. 

"Got  there  all  right,  I  hope?" 

Maxwell  smiled  assent.  The  man's  tone  was 
friendly  without  being  unpleasantly  familiar.  It 
had  that  peculiar  American  touch  of  sympa- 
thetic interest  which  is  distinguishable  from  idle 
curiosity. 

"Play  billiards?"  he  asked  presently,  drop- 
ping into  the  next  seat.  The  question  naturally 
led  to  a  discussion  about  the  difference  between 
the  American  and  the  English  games,  and  finally, 

17 


i8  Cab  No.  44 

to  the  suggestion  that  the  Englishman  should 
try  his  hand,  they  got  a  table.  In  spite  of  his 
better  knowledge  of  the  carom  game,  the  elder 
man  soon  found  that  he  was  no  match  for  his 
younger  opponent.  After  being  beaten  by  about 
fifteen  points  in  fifty,  he  proposed  that  they 
should  adjourn  for  a  drink. 

Sitting  at  a  table  in  the  cafe,  he  ordered  two 
"horse's  necks,"  insisting  that  the  Englishman 
should  try  that  concoction,  and  emphasizing  the 
fact  that  it  was  much  better  than  a  Mamie  Tay- 
lor. After  having  drained  his  glass  to  the  toast, 
"Here's  how,"  he  became  confidential,  and  in 
the  course  of  the  few  minutes  that  they  sat  there 
he  told  his  young  companion  all  about  his  busi- 
ness, his  prospects,  his  wife  and  family,  his  likes 
and  dislikes  in  literature  and  the  drama,  science 
and  sport,  and  also  his  preferences  in  politics. 
If  his  account  of  himself  were  true,  he  had  pros- 
pered in  this  world,  and  justified  his  own  opinion 
of  himself  when  he  declared  that  he  was  of 
"some  account"  now.  The  only  thing  that  he 
forgot  to  mention  was  his  name.  He  did  not 
seem  at  all  curious  about  his  companion's  affairs, 
but  was  evidently  highly  pleased  at  having  found 
so  good  a  listener. 

Upon  their  return  to  the  billiard  room  every 
table  was  engaged.  Without  a  moment's  hesi- 


Cab  No.  44  19 

tation  the  older  man  called  a  boy  to  bring  his 
coat  and  call  a  cab.  "Let  us  go  up  to  the  club," 
he  said.  "We  can  get  all  the  tables  we  want 
there,  and  I'll  introduce  you  to  a  few  more 
American  drinks." 

The  club  to  which  they  drove  had  a  rather 
pretentious  entrance  and  brilliantly  lighted  re- 
ception rooms,  with  a  certain  air  about  it  which 
suggested  a  hotel,  and  which  would  have  told 
an  experienced  clubman  that  it  was  one  of  those 
associations  whose  membership  is  too  large  to 
be  select,  yet  not  always  large  enough  to  pay 
expenses. 

"Let  me  see,  I  forget  your  name,"  the  older 
man  remarked,  as  if  he  had  known  Hardy  Max- 
well for  a  week,  but  had  let  his  name  slip  from 
his  memory  for  the  moment. 

The  younger  man  hesitated  for  an  instant, 
and  then  said  quietly,  "Milton  Fletcher,"  with 
a  slight  bow. 

The  name  was  scribbled  on  the  register  as  a 
servant  took  Fletcher's  coat,  and  the  two  men 
went  at  once  to  the  billiard  room. 

They  had  played  only  a  few  minutes  when 
an  elderly  man,  who  was  puffing  a  fat  cigar,  ap- 
proached the  table.  He  was  at  once  greeted 
effusively  by  Maxwell's  sponsor,  who  said: 

"Hullo,    Phillips!     Shake   hands   with    Mr. 


2O  Cab  No.  44 

Fletcher.  Phillips,  old  boy,  Mr.  Fletcher  is  a 
visitor  from  England,  and  he  can  do  you  up  at 
this  game  with  his  left  hand." 

After  that,  it  seemed  impossible  for  any  one 
to  come  within  ten  feet  of  the  billiard  table  with- 
out being  introduced.  The  Englishman  put  a 
good  face^on  the  matter,  and  managed  to  say 
something  each  time  in  reply  to  the  eternal  ques- 
tion, "What  do  you  think  of  America?"  or, 
"How  do  you  like  this  country?"  Considering 
that  he  had  been  in  the  country  just  three  days, 
the  opinions  that  he  expressed  were  certainly 
flattering,  even  if  they  were  based  almost  en- 
tirely upon  the  results  of  a  visit  to  Brooklyn. 

Tiring  of  the  billiards,  the  two  men  went  into 
the  cafe,  and  there  more  promiscuous  introduc- 
tions took  place.  Every  one  had  to  shake  hands 
with  Fletcher.  Most  of  the  men  seemed  quite 
pleased  to  meet  a  friend  of  "Charlie,"  which 
was  the  only  name  the  man  with  the  loud  waist- 
coat was  addressed  by  in  that  gathering.  The 
clubmen  who  were  introduced  to  Fletcher  evi- 
dently liked  his  looks.  A  tall,  well  set-up  young 
fellow  in  faultless  evening  dress  has  a  great  deal 
in  his  favor  in  any  company. 

Among  the  men  who  were  thus  presented  to 
the  young  Englishman  was  a  Mr.  Paul  May- 
nard,  a  tall,  fine-looking  man  with  a  gray 


Cab  No.  44  21 

mustache,  a  large  nose,  and  a  prominent  chin. 
Maynard  was  rather  thin  for  his  height,  and  had 
a  peculiar  nervous  little  laugh,  which,  however, 
went  very  well  with  his  soft  voice  and  his  gentle 
manners.  He  insisted  on  a  drink,  which  they 
had  hardly  swallowed  when  some  one  chal- 
lenged "Charlie"  to  another  game  of  billiards. 
"Charlie"  jumped  up  at  once,  excusing  himself 
with  the  remark: 

"You  know  I'm  a  fiend  at  that  game.  Back 
presently.  Take  care  of  Mr.  Fletcher  for  me, 
Maynard." 

As  soon  as  "Charlie"  was  gone,  Maynard 
asked  his  new  acquaintance  if  he  would  not  like 
to  see  the  building,  and  they  went  through  it. 
Maynard  was  pleased  to  find  that  Fletcher  ap- 
preciated what  he  saw.  "You  are  the  first 
Englishman  that  I  have  taken  over  this  house," 
he  said,  "that  did  not  confine  his  remarks  to  say- 
ing we  kept  the  place  too  beastly  hot,  or  that 
there  was  not  enough  ventilation."  Then  he 
laughed,  that  little  nervous  laugh  of  his,  and 
proposed  a  return  to  the  company  in  the  cafe. 

The  men  there  talked  about  various  things, 
mostly  business  and  politics,  with  an  occasional 
dash  of  sports.  Maynard  noticed  that  Fletcher 
seemed  to  be  better  as  a  listener  than  as  a  talker. 
He  also  observed  that  while  the  others  were 


22  'Cab  No.  44 

very  free  in  their  expressions  of  opinions, 
Fletcher  preferred  to  agree  rather  than  discuss. 
When  some  man,  with  great  vehemence,  would 
give  the  others  the  benefit  of  his  ideas,  Maynard 
would  catch  Fletcher's  eyes  quietly  fixed  on  the 
speaker  with  a  peculiar  searching  look,  and  a 
smile  which  seemed  to  conceal  itself. 

Occasionally  some  one  would  put  to  Fletcher 
a  direct  question  that  would  have  brought  from 
an  American  an  illustration  drawn  from  his  own 
experience;  but  the  Englishman  did  not  touch 
upon  his  own  affairs.  Not  once  did  he  refer 
to  anything  that  had  ever  happened  to  him  per- 
sonally, or  to  any  acquaintance  that  he  might 
have  had,  or  to  any  place  that  he  had  ever  been. 
The  skill  with  which  he  avoided  such  things  ap- 
peared to  Maynard  as  remarkable.  He  knew 
that  Englishmen  seldom  discussed  their  private 
affairs,  even  with  their  friends,  never  with 
strangers.  But  such  Englishmen  as  he  had  met 
were  always  full  of  anecdote  and  reminiscence, 
especially  if  any  reference  were  made  to  places 
and  things  "at  home." 

The  others  did  not  notice  the  Englishman's 
reticence  so  much,  probably  because  they  were 
not  paying  the  same  close  and  interested  atten- 
tion that  Maynard  gave  him.  Maynard  had  a 
keen  judgment  of  men,  and  he  soon  realized 


Cab  No.  44  23 

that  the  young  man  before  him  was  a  person  of 
much  more  than  average  intelligence.  But  there 
was  something  about  him  that  suggested,  he 
could  not  tell  just  why,  the  mysterious,  the  un- 
canny. Maynard  thought  that  his  face,  at  cer- 
tain unguarded  moments,  indicated  secretive- 
ness,  if  not  actual  cunning;  and  Maynard  saw, 
under  the  black  mustache,  the  outline  of  the 
firm  lips,  and  under  the  pointed  beard  the  con- 
tour of  the  square,  determined  chin. 

They  say  that  love  at  first  sight  is  a  com- 
mon thing  between  the  sexes.  One  will  some- 
times find,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  most  prosaic 
surroundings,  a  peculiar  attraction  between  per- 
sons of  the  same  sex,  and  especially  between  men 
of  unusual  intellectual  power.  They  will  pick 
each  other  out  of  a  crowd  on  board  a  ship,  or  a 
company  in  a  club,  as  unerringly  as  a  squirrel 
will  pick  out  a  tree  that  will  furnish  it  with  food, 
no  matter  how  many  others  may  be  in  the  woods. 

Fletcher  had  fascinated  Mr.  Paul  Maynard. 


CHAPTER  III 

HELEN  OHLSTROM  was  not  disap- 
pointed. Maxwell  not  only  paid  his 
dinner  call,  but  he  called  once  or  twice 
afterward,  and  he  made  himself  particularly 
agreeable  to  all  the  members  of  the  family. 
Helen  felt,  as  she  had  never  felt  with  any  other 
man,  that  this  Englishman  understood  her,  that 
he  sympathized  with  her,  and  she  caught  her- 
self telling  him  things  that  she  had  never  spoken 
of  to  any  other  person  in  the  world;  not  even 
to  her  old  school-girl  friend,  Madge,  who  had 
shared  so  many  of  her  confidences,  especially 
about  men. 

Maxwell  had  known  Helen  for  several  weeks, 
and  their  acquaintance  had  advanced  far  enough 
for  her  to  go  out  for  a  walk  with  him  oc- 
casionally, when  one  Sunday  afternoon  she 
asked  him  if  he  would  not  like  to  go  on  an 
exploring  expedition  to  Coney  Island.  Finding 
him  quite  willing,  she  went  to  get  her  hat  and 
furs.  As  they  left  her  home  she  informed  him 
that  winter  was  the  best  time  to  see  Coney. 

At  Coney  Island  Maxwell  did  not  care  to 
look  at  the  tawdry  plaster  fronts  of  the  build- 

24 


Cab  No.  44  25 

ings,  although  he  admitted  that  they  might  be 
very  pretty  when  they  were  all  lit  up.  The  busi- 
ness part  of  the  island  is  not  attractive  in 
winter,  and  the  girl  and  her  companion  made 
their  way  along  the  sand  toward  Brighton  and 
Manhattan,  intending  to  cross  the  old  wooden 
bridge  at  Sheepshead  Bay  and  to  ride  home 
from  there. 

It  was  a  lovely  day.  One  of  those  clear  cold 
days  that  give  to  the  American  fall  the  most 
attractive  climate  in  the  world  while  it  lasts. 
There  were  many  persons  upon  the  beach  and 
along  the  roads,  although  the  closely  nailed-up 
hotels  were  pictures  of  desolation  where,  only  a 
few  weeks  before,  all  had  been  music,  and 
flowers,  and  dining  out  of  doors.  The  board- 
walks, parts  of  which  had  been  removed  in  prep- 
aration for  the  onslaught  of  the  waves  from  the 
winter  storms,  were  not  inviting  for  pedestrians, 
but  all  was  well  in  the  world  so  far  as  the  girl 
and  the  young  Englishman  were  concerned. 
Many  eyes  watched  them  admiringly  as  they 
strode  rapidly  along.  Once  fairly  out  upon  the 
sands,  beyond  where  the  Brighton  Hotel  has 
been  dragged  back  six  hundred  feet  to  save  it 
from  the  sea,  the  winds  from  the  ocean  seemed 
to  affect  the  girl  with  something  of  their  own 
free  and  careless  spirit,  and  she  laughed  with  a 


26  Cab  No.  44 

childish  abandonment  to  the  pleasure  of  the 
moment. 

"Isn't  this  a  delightful  playday?"  she  ex- 
claimed, taking  a  full  deep  breath. 

"Are  you  enjoying  it,  even  with  such  a  dull 
playfellow?"  Maxwell  inquired,  suddenly  realiz- 
ing that  he  had  been  so  preoccupied  by  his  own 
thoughts  that  he  had  said  very  little. 

"Yes,  I  am  having  a  very  good  time,"  she 
answered.  "But  now  that  I  think  of  it,  I  ought 
to  be  quite  on  my  dignity  because  you  find  so 
little  to  say  to  me." 

He  did  not  reply  for  a  moment.  He  looked 
at  her  intently  and  the  smile  he  gave  her,  ac- 
companied by  a  slight  closing  of  the  eyes  and  a 
loosening  of  the  lips,  might  mean  anything. 
Somehow  it  checked  her  buoyancy  until  he 
spoke. 

"I  supposed,"  he  said,  "that  we  had  become 
the  sort  of  friends  that  understand  each  other 
without  the  formality  of  speech,  which  conceals 
so  much  more  than  it  reveals,  after  all." 

Helen  shook  her  head,  smiling  the  while. 

"Of  course  you  can  read  my  thoughts,  for  I 
am  about  as  transparent  and  shallow  as  the  edge 
of  a  wave,  but  I  confess  I  cannot  understand 
you.  Many  times  when  I  think  I  am  beginning 


Cab  No.  44  27 

to  know  you  it  seems  as  if  you  shut  the  door  of 
your  real  self." 

Maxwell  stopped  to  pick  up  a  shell,  and  both 
of  them  stood  still  for  a  moment,  close  to  the 
sea.  He  turned  to  her  and  said  slowly  and 
gravely : 

"I  have  never  shut  the  door  of  my  heart  to 
you,  Miss  Ohlstrom." 

When  she  heard  the  words,  uttered  with  evi- 
dent purpose,  Helen  trembled  with  the  realiza- 
tion of  a  strange  happiness.  She  knew  that  she 
ought  to  rebuke  this  man,  who  was  little  more 
than  an  acquaintance,  for  daring  to  speak  to 
her  in  such  a  manner,  yet  she  could  not  believe 
that  he  was  taking  advantage  of  the  liberty  ac- 
corded to  American  girls.  She  tried  to  summon 
the  same  feeling  of  resentment  that  he  had 
awakened  on  the  evening  of  their  first  meeting. 
She  really  meant  to  reprove  him,  but  despite  a 
new  sensation  of  timidity  she  looked  into  his 
face,  and  what  she  saw  there  was  so  convinc- 
ing that  she  could  only  drop  her  eyes  to  hide 
their  tell-tale  acknowledgment  of  her  trust  in 
him. 

A  few  moments  later  and  they  were  walking 
on  together  with  the  cool  sea  breeze  blowing 
in  their  faces.  It  was  not  until  half  an  hour 
later,  when  they  were  chatting  about  some  trivial 


28  Cab  No.  44 

thing,  that  the  girl  suddenly  became  uncomfort- 
ably conscious  that  she  had  let  this  Englishman 
assume  the  position  of  a  possible  suitor. 

Helen  Ohlstrom  had  studied  Maxwell  closely. 
She  had  watched  the  curious  smile  that  had  at- 
tracted Maynard's  attention,  and  it  always  re- 
called her  father's  remark,  "Queer  chap  in  some 
things."  She  realized  that  she  knew  nothing 
of  his  business  in  America,  or  the  probable  dura- 
tion of  his  stay.  He  seemed  to  have  few  friends 
in  New  York.  Perhaps  that  was  the  real  reason 
why  he  devoted  so  much  of  his  time  to  her. 
Her  reflections  were  suddenly  interrupted  by 
Maxwell's  saying: 

"I  attended  a  dinner  rather  unexpectedly  last 
evening  in  a  restaurant  and  had  rather  a 
curious  experience." 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  Helen  replied  rather 
absent-mindedly. 

"I  do  not  exactly  know  how  to  tell  you,"  Max- 
well began  hesitatingly,  "but  perhaps  you  will 
forgive  me  for  describing  the  row,  as  I  thought 
it  very  amusing.  You  see,  it  was  Mr.  Maynard 
who  got  me  into  it." 

"Oh !  I  hope  you  did  not  get  into  a  row  in  a 
public  restaurant!" 

"Oh,  no !  It  was  not  the  row  he  got  me  into; 
but  the  dinner,  you  know.  I  was  playing  bil- 


Cab  No.  44  29 

liards  with  him  at  the  club — you  know  he  put 
me  up  for  two  weeks — when  some  one  rang  him 
up  on  the  'phone  and  asked  him  to  fill  out  a 
little  dinner  party.  When  he  told  them  he  had 
me  on  his  hands,  they  said  to  bring  me  along." 

"But  from  what  you  have  told  me,  Mr.  May- 
nard  and  his  friends  should  be  nice  people. 
How  did  they  get  you  into  a  row?"  Helen  ques- 
tioned with  concern. 

"None  better.  You  see,  I  never  saw  Maynard 
before  I  got  into  conversation  with  a  man  while 
we  were  watching  a  game  of  billiards  at  the 
hotel  one  evening,"  Maxwell  answered.  "You 
Americans  seem  to  make  acquaintances  so  freely ! 
After  we  had  played  a  game  together  we  talked 
awhile  over  one  of  those  queer  drinks  with  out- 
landish names.  Then  he  wanted  another  game, 
but  we  could  not  get  a  table,  so  he  took  me  up 
to  his  club,  and  there  he  introduced  me  to  every- 
body, right  and  left.  I  never  dreamed  of  such 
promiscuous  introductions  as  you  make  in 
America  without  asking  the  consent  of  either 
party.  Among  the  men  I  met  that  evening  was 
Mr.  Maynard;  but  to  save  my  life  I  am  not  able 
to  recall  the  name  of  the  man  that  took  me  to 
the  club,  except  that  his  first  name  was  Charlie." 

"How  funny!" 


30  Cab  No.  44 

"Yes.  I  must  look  up  the  register  some  day 
and  find  out  who  he  was." 

"Well,  go  on  with  your  story,"  the  girl  urged. 

"I  am  coming  to  that  now.  I  stayed  there 
pretty  late  that  night  and  Mr.  Maynard,  who 
seemed  a  good  sort,  asked  me  to  dine  with  him 
there  some  evening,  and  then  he  put  me  up  for 
two  weeks.  When  that  time  is  up  he  says  he 
will  get  me  put  up  at  another  club,  and  then  at 
another,  as  long  as  I  stay.  Really,  it  is  a  charm- 
ing country!  One  could  not  get  into  clubs  as 
easily  as  that  in  England,  you  know." 

"But  what  about  the  dinner?  These  prelim- 
inaries are  very  interesting,  but  I  want  to  know 
about  the  trouble  they  had." 

Maxwell  hesitated. 

"Just  fancy  a  man  telling  a  girl  what  I  have 
begun  to  tell  you,  all  about  a  jolly  row,"  he 
said.  "Really  I  must  not." 

"Really  you  must,"  Helen  insisted.  "I  want 
to  know  what  sort  of  Americans  you  are  meet- 
ing. Besides,  you  have  aroused  my  curiosity." 
She  smiled  at  him ;  but  a  moment  later  her  face 
became  serious  and  she  watched  him  furtively. 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  "the  dinner  was  in  a 
private  room  and  there  were  only  five  of  us. 
The  host  was  a  Dr.  Ramie,  but  the  most  interest- 
ing man  to  me  was  a  Mr.  George  Hartley." 


Cab  No.  44  31 

"You  don't  mean  the  president  of  the  Hard- 
ware Trust,  or  something  of  that  kind?"  Helen 
interrupted;  "I  think  my  father  knew  him  in  a 
business  way." 

"I  believe  Mr.  Hartley  has  something  to  do 
with  trusts.  And  there  was  a  Mr.  Frank  Doug- 
las, a  very " 

"Why,  you  don't  mean  the  Wall  Street  Doug- 
las, that  the  papers  say  has  been  coining  money 
lately?" 

"Probably.  I  didn't  ask  particulars;  but 
neither  of  them  seemed  to  think  much  of  twenty 
thousand  dollars.  Mr.  Maynard,  you  see,  is  a 
retired  broker,  and  is  still,  I  gather,  the  lead- 
ing authority  on  the  correctness  of  the  form  of 
bonds,  or  something  of  that  kind.  That  is  how 
he  comes  to  know  all  these  rich  men,  I  suppose. 

"Well,  Dr.  Ramie  met  us  in  the  hall.  It 
seems  that  he  did  not  know  that  Mr.  Douglas 
had  trimmed  Mr.  Hartley  pretty  severely  in  the 
stock  market  not  long  before,  or  he  would  not 
have  invited  them  together.  Two  or  three 
others  were  to  have  been  there  from  Baltimore, 
but  they  missed  their  train  or  something.  The 
moment  Hartley  arrived  and  found  Douglas 
there  he  wanted  to  go  home  again,  and  it  was 
to  save  his  dinner  party  that  the  doctor  rang  up 
Maynard.  He  asked  us  to  sandwich  ourselves 


32  Cab  No.  44 

between  the  two  at  table,  and  to  obviate,  as 
much  as  possible,  any  necessity  for  their  speak- 
ing to  each  other." 

"What  a  congenial  party!" 

"Yes,  wasn't  it?  The  doctor's  plan  was  all 
right  during  the  dinner  itself,  but  after  the 
coffee  and  cigars  came  in  the  conversation  be- 
came more  general,  and  it  soon  became  very  evi- 
dent that  these  two  were  not  inclined  to  endorse 
each  other's  opinions  on  any  subject  under  the 
sun.  Candidly,  I  think  that  Mr.  Hartley  had 
had  about  as  much  champagne  as  was  good  for 
him." 

"Isn't  it  dreadful  how  men  drink  when  they 
get  together?" 

"Well,  the  rest  of  us  were  all  perfectly  sober. 
At  least  I  am  sure  I  was,"  Maxwell  smiled 
quietly. 

"But  how  did  they  get  into  a  fight  if  you  were 
all  sober?" 

"There  was  no  fight.  It  was  only  a  row.  All 
talk  and  bluster,  and  offers  to  bet  thousands  of 
dollars  on  any  absurd  proposition  that  might  be 
made." 

"How  lovely!  And  you  enjoy  that  kind  of 
thing  better  than  calling  on  me?"  she  asked 
lightly.  "I  had  a  feeling  that  you  would  come 
to  Brooklyn  last  evening." 


Cab  No.  44  33 

"It  is  hardly  fair  to  put  it  that  way;  but  to 
be  brutally  frank,  I  enjoyed  it  last  night  im- 
mensely. It  was  so  American  and  so  enlighten- 
ing." 

"And  I  suppose  I  am  not  American  and — 
enlightening?"  She  was  going  to  say  "interest- 
ing" at  first.  She  tossed  her  head  and  looked 
across  the  bay  at  the  distant  outlines  of  Sandy 
Hook,  while  he  hastened  to  say: 

"Yes,  you  are  enlightening — very!  But  I 
thought  you  wanted  to  hear  the  story?"  he  re- 
turned with  a  look  that  told  her  she  was  alto- 
gether charming. 

"I  do,"  she  declared,  turning  away  to  hide 
the  answering  blush. 

"To  cut  it  short,  the  row  came  to  a  head  when 
they  got  to  talking  about  the  failure  of  Mul- 
berry Street  to  find  Bradley  the  murderer." 

"Mulberry  Street?    What  is  that?" 

"I  mean  the  police,  of  course.  We  always 
speak  of  Scotland  Yard  doing  such  things,  you 
know ;  so  I  naturally  thought  of  Mulberry  Street 
over  here,  don't  you  know."  He  stopped  short 
after  this  explanation,  as  if  he  had  been  rather 
confused  by  the  question. 

"And  how  did  your  friends  propose  to  find 
Bradley?" 

"Oh,  they  had  no  proposal  to  make  on  that 


34  Cab  No.  44 

subject;  but  Mr.  Hartley,  who  was  getting  more 
hilarious  every  minute,  talked  boastingly  about 
'the  finest  police  force  in  the  world.'  He  said 
it  was  only  a  question  of  days  until  they  would 
find  the  fugitive,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  don't 
you  know,  while  Mr.  Douglas  pooh-poohed  the 
whole  thing,  and  said  that  if  the  police  were  left 
to  themselves  they  could  not  catch  anybody." 

"But  are  they  not  always  left  to  themselves? 
Who  helps  them?"  Helen  demanded. 

"Why,  my  dear  girl — I  beg  pardon,  Miss 
Ohlstrom — why,  I  mean — you  see — Scotland 
Yard — no,  I  mean  the  police  depend  more 
upon  their  previous  acquaintance  with  crooks 
and  upon  a  knowledge  of  their  ways  and  haunts 
than  upon  simple  detective  skill.  The  police  are 
not  so  clever — smart,  I  think  you  call  it — as 
people  think  they  are."  Maxwell  smiled  with 
an  expression  in  his  eyes  that  had  a  meaning 
she  could  not  comprehend,  and  that  peculiar, 
cunning  look  which  she  did  not  exactly  like 
came  over  his  face. 

"If  the  police  had  nothing  to  guide  them  but 
the  place  that  was  robbed,"  he  went  on,  "very 
few  thieves  would  ever  be  caught.  They  recog- 
nize in  the  manner  in  which  the  house  is  en- 
tered, in  the  careful  way  the  shades  are  pinned 
up,  instead  of  being  rolled,  or  something  like 


Cab  No.  44  35 

that,  that  the  job  is  the  work  of  a  certain  man. 
Then  they  locate  the  man  they  suspect,  and  try 
to  find  out  where  he  was  that  night  and  what  he 
has  been  doing  since.  In  this,  other  thieves 
often  furnish  valuable  assistance  and  informa- 
tion; sometimes  to  avoid  trouble  for  themselves 
in  minor  cases.  That  is  where  your  common 
criminal  is  a  fool.  He  should  work  alone,"  and 
again  the  same  smile  stole  over  his  face. 

"And  do  murderers  get  caught  because  the 
police  recognize  their  special  style  of  work?" 
asked  Helen,  laughing  at  the  droll  idea. 

"Not  exactly,"  he  admitted  with  a  smile. 
"When  a  man  is  murdered  the  police  try  to  pick 
out  the  person  who  is  most  likely  to  have  com- 
mitted the  crime.  They  look  for  a  motive,  and 
from  the  motive  they  reason  out  the  man,  and 
then  they  watch  him,  and  question  all  his 
friends,  especially  if  he  has  a  sweetheart.  It  is 
his  friends  that  usually  betray  him.  Many  a 
man  has  been  hung  by  his  sweetheart." 

The  girl  shuddered  and  involuntarily  drew 
her  furs  closer  around  her.  "We  have  wandered 
a  long  way  from  the  dinner,"  she  remarked. 

"So  we  have,"  he  agreed.  "Well,  let  us  finish 
it  up.  Douglas  insisted  that  the  police  could 
never  catch  a  thief  unless  he  were  a  well-known 
criminal,"  he  went  on.  "Members  of  newly 


36  Cab  No.  44 

formed  gangs,  he  said,  were  hard  to  trace.  He 
cited  cases  of  the  sons  of  respectable  parents 
who  had  committed  one  burglary  after  another, 
without  even  being  suspected,  until  they  were 
accidentally  caught  in  the  act,  or  the  plunder 
was  traced  to  them.  Hartley  laughed  at  him, 
and  said  the  police  could  catch  any  thief  in  three 
days  if  they  were  in  earnest  about  it.  But 
Douglas  maintained  that  if  an  absolutely  un- 
known criminal,  a  newcomer  in  the  world  of 
crime,  were  to  commit  a  robbery  without  hav- 
ing to  take  into  his  confidence  any  accomplices, 
there  would  be  absolutely  no  possibility  of  catch- 
ing him  except  by  tracing  the  stolen  goods. 

"That  made  Hartley  positively  abusive.  He 
talked  of  betting  unheard-of  amounts  on  the 
skill  of  the  police.  Finally  Douglas  took  out 
his  note-book  and  offered  to  make  a  straight 
bet  of  ten  thousand  dollars  that  if  there  was 
any  way  in  which  Mr.  Hartley  could  arrange 
to  have  a  robbery  committed  by  an  amateur, 
so  that  the  amateur  should  have  twelve  hours' 
start  of  the  police,  they  could  not  catch  him  in  a 
month,  to  say  nothing  of  three  days.  Dr. 
Ramie,  the  host,  seemed  to  think  that  Mr.  Doug- 
las was  about  right,  and  offered  to  bet  a  hundred 
the  same  way." 

"And  I  suppose  you  wanted  to  bet  too  ?    Oh, 


Cab  No.  44  37 

but  you  men  are  dreadful  when  you  get  by  your- 
selves, drinking  and  gambling  and  betting  on 
things,"  exclaimed  Helen. 

"Indeed,  I  should  not  have  tried  to  tell  this. 
I  had  no  idea  it  would  sound  so  bad,"  Maxwell 
cried.  "Forgive  me!  I  don't  see  why  I  ever 
referred  to  the  incident,  yet  something  has  com- 
pelled me  to  confide  in  you.  Something  tells 
me  it  may  be  of  interest  to  you  some  day.  Some- 
times you  seem  more  like  a  boy  comrade  than  a 
girl." 

"Don't  interrupt  yourself,"  Helen  com- 
manded firmly.  "I  can  listen,  even  though  I 
confess  'to  a  feeling  of — of  truly  feminine  revul- 
sion." 

She  trusted  him,  she  told  herself,  yet  not  an 
hour  after  that  self-revelation  on  the  sands  she 
was  made  keenly  conscious  of  the  mystery  of 
personality  which  so  often  disturbed  her.  The 
door  of  his  heart  might  be  open  to  her,  but  the 
way  to  the  door  was  a  labyrinth. 

"I  confess  I  should  have  backed  Douglas  my- 
self; but  there  was  no  actual  bet  made,"  Max- 
well went  on.  "They  simply  agreed  to  think 
it  over  for  a  week,  probably  to  let  Mr.  Hart- 
ley cool  off  a  bit.  We  broke  up  with  the  under- 
standing that  we  should  meet  there  again  next 
Saturday,  and  that  if  any  one  had  anything  prao- 


38  Cab  No.  44 

tical  to  suggest  that  would  settle  the  bet,  each 
of  them  would  put  up  ten  thousand  on  the 
result." 

"And  you  are  going  to  be  a  party  to  such  a 
gambling  transaction?  And  bet  on  robbers 
being  too  clever  for  the  police?"  Helen  de- 
manded with  severe  accusation  in  her  voice. 
Why,  robbers  sometimes  kill  people  when  they 
are  resisted,  don't  they?  Why  did  you  let  your- 
self be  drawn  into  such  things?" 

"Really,  I  think  it  is  extremely  interesting, 
all  the  more  so  because  it  is  between  those  two. 
I  am  quite  sure,  if  I  am  any  judge  of  human 
nature,  that  the  police  would  not  lack  assistance, 
financial  and  otherwise,  if  Mr.  Hartley  had  ten 
thousand  at  stake  and  Mr.  Douglas  was  the 
prospective  loser.  I  fancy  a  trial  of  that  kind 
would  be  as  exciting  as  a  horse  race.  I  should 
certainly  put  a  bit  on  myself." 

She  turned  the  conversation  to  other  matters, 
and  they  soon  found  themselves  at  the  bridge 
over  Sheepshead  Bay.  The  dinner  story  was 
still  running  through  her  head,  but  she  made 
no  comment  upon  it  until  they  were  nearly  home. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  you,"  she 
said  suddenly  with  assumed  carelessness,  "but 
I  suppose  I  shall  ask  you  in  to  tea.  Perhaps  I 


Cab  No.  44  39 

can  get  back  my  first  good  impression  of  you 
before  you  return  to  the  city;  but  not  a  word 
before  papa  and  mamma  about  that  horrid  bet- 
ting and  robbery  business." 


IN  telling  Helen  Ohlstrom  the  story  of  his 
first  meeting  with  Maynard,  there  was 
one  little  detail  that  Maxwell  did  not 
mention.  This  was  that  in  introducing  himself 
to  the  stranger  in  the  billiard  room  at  the  hotel 
the  name  that  had  been  given  was  Milton 
Fletcher;  not  Hardy  Maxwell.  By  that  name, 
as  we  have  seen,  he  had  been  introduced  to 
every  one  at  the  club.  By  that  name  he  was 
known  to  Paul  Maynard  and  to  all  Maynard's 
friends. 

Another  trifle  that  he  had  overlooked  in  the 
narrative  was  that  he  had  changed  his  hotel  next 
day,  and  had  registered  as  Milton  Fletcher  at 
the  new  one,  so  that  when  Maynard  called  for 
him  or  rang  him  up,  it  was  Mr.  Fletcher  that 
was  asked  for  and  that  responded,  just  as  it  was 
Mr.  Milton  Fletcher  that  was  at  the  dinner. 

A  day  or  two  after  the  "row"  that  had  been 
described  to  Helen,  Maynard  called  for  Fletcher 
at  his  hotel,  and  together  they  went  up  to  the 
club  to  dine.  Of  course  the  chief  topic  of  con- 
versation between  them  was  the  tilt  between 

40 


Cab  No.  44  '41! 

Hartley  and  Douglas,  which  Maynard  seemed 
to  regard  as  a  huge  joke. 

"Ten  thousand  dollars  seemed  to  be  a  mere 
bagatelle  to  them,"  remarked  Fletcher  thought- 
fully. "I  have  heard  about  large  wagers  on  the 
other  side,  you  know,  and  I  believe  that  it  is 
true  that  some  very  large  bets  are  occasionally 
made;  but  to  be  brought  face  to  face  with 
twenty-thousand-dollar  bets  in  this  way  is  rather 
a  new  sensation,  I  confess." 

"Ten  thousand,  my  dear  fellow!  Why, 
Hartley  must  have  an  income  of  nearly  half  a 
million,  and  as  for  Douglas,  he  is  a  plunger  in 
everything.  But,  I  say!  Wasn't  Hartley  full, 
and  didn't  they  go  for  each  other?  And  did  you 
ever  hear  of  such  ridiculous  propositions  as  they 
made?  To  get  some  one  to  rob  a  bank — wasn't 
it? — and  then  run  away  and  hide  and  see  if  the 
police  could  catch  him  !" 

Paul  Maynard  slapped  his  leg  and  laughed 
aloud  at  the  very  recollection  of  it. 

"I  took  it  that  Douglas  was  quite  in 
earnest " 

"Oh,  so  he  was,  my  dear  fellow!  Quite! 
When  Douglas  takes  out  that  note-book  of  his 
and  puts  down  a  transaction  involving  cash,  it 
stands;  as  you  would  find  out  if  you  told  him 
you  would  be  willing  to  pay  a  hundred  and 


42  Cab  No.  44 

twelve  for  Canadian  Express  stock,  as  I  did 
once.  I  got  the  stock  next  day  at  noon." 

"And  I  also  took  it,"  continued  Fletcher,  as 
if  not  noticing  the  interruption,  "that  Mr.  Hart- 
ley would  spend  as  much  again  to  help  the  police 
if  he  were  betting  on  them.  Money  is  a  power- 
ful aid  in  such  matters;  it  enables  one  to  cover 
so  much  ground  at  once.  That  is  why  private 
detectives  fail.  They  cannot  afford  to  put  a 
hundred  men  on  the  job  at  once.  Many  a  man 
has  escaped  because  his  pursuers  had  not  money 
enough  to  follow  up  all  the  clues,  and  then  a 
reward  is  such  a  powerful  inducement  to  an  offi- 
cer to  concentrate  his  efforts  and  let  less  impor- 
tant things  slide." 

"I  did  not  think  of  that,  the  whole  thing 
being  a  joke.  But  of  course  you  are  quite  right. 
I  see  you  are  a  good  judge  of  human  nature; 
at  least  with  regard  to  Hartley,"  Maynard 
added  musingly.  "He  is  one  of  the  kind  that 
doesn't  let  anything  stand  in  his  way  when  the 
dollars  are  at  stake.  But  here  we  are  at  the 
club." 

Just  as  they  reached  the  top  step  the  sound 
of  a  cab  door  slamming  made  them  turn  round. 

"By  Jove!  Here's  Douglas  himself,"  said 
Maynard,  holding  open  the  door  for  him. 

"You  fellows  here?"  remarked  Douglas,  nod- 


Cab  No.  44  43 

ding  to  each  in  turn.  "Dining,  I  suppose? 
Sorry  I  can't  join  you,  but  I  have  a  private 
dinner  upstairs." 

"Awfully  sorry,  old  chap,"  Maynard  an- 
swered. "We  were  just  talking  about  that  joke 
of  yours  with  Hartley,  you  know,  when  you 
offered  to  bet  him  a  million." 

"Joke  nothing!"  blurted  Douglas  as  he 
stepped  into  the  elevator,  slipping  his  coat  check 
into  his  pocket.  "You  are  coming  up  to 
Green's  Saturday  night,  are  you  not?  And 
your  friend?  Let  me  see;  I  forget  the  name. 
Oh,  yes;  Mr.  Fletcher.  I  shall  have  something 
to  propose  on  Saturday  that  will  make  old  Hart- 
ley think  twice  about  backing  the  omnipotence 
of  the  police  force  of  this  town" ;  and  he  waved 
his  hand  to  them  through  the  elevator  door  as 
he  went  up. 

"By  Jove !  I  believe  he  is  really  in  earnest," 
said  Maynard  with  a  laugh  as  he  and  Fletcher 
strolled  toward  the  dining-room. 

After  they  were  comfortably  seated  and  had 
ordered  their  cocktails  and  scanned  the  menu 
critically,  Fletcher  reverted  to  the  subject  which 
was  evidently  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"Yes,  I  think  Douglas  is  quite  in  earnest, 
and  what  is  more,  I  think  I  could  help  him  a 


44  Cab  No.  44 

bit,  don't  you  know,  with  a  suggestion  or  two. 
Were  you  ever  hunted?" 

The  suddenness  of  the  question  made  May- 
nard  turn  red  in  the  face.  Seeing  his  embar- 
rassment, Fletcher  hastened  to  put  the  idea  he 
had  in  his  mind  in  another  way. 

"Did  you  ever  shoot  without  a  dog?" 
"Why,  no.     I'm  not  fond  of  hunting." 
"I  don't  mean  hunting.    I  mean  birds." 
"Well,  we  call  that  hunting  in  this  country, 
you  know;  because  the  birds  are  so  scarce  that 
we  have  to  hunt  for  them.     But  what  has  that 
to  do  with  Douglas?" 

"I  should  judge  that  the  hunt  he  proposes 
would  be  quite  as  exciting  and  even  more  full 
of  surprises  than  shooting  without  a  dog." 

"But  you  don't  for  a  moment  suppose  that 
such  a  thing  as  that  will  ever  be  attempted?" 

"Such  a  thing  as  what?  As  settling  that 
wager?  Why,  yes.  I  rather  hope  it  will.  At 
least,  if  a  practical  scheme  could  be  found  for 
the  test,  don't  you  know." 

"Really!  You  amuse  me.  What  singular 
ideas  of  sport  you  Englishmen  have,  to  be  sure. 
Of  course,  as  you  say,  it  would  be  exciting  if 
one  could  see  anything  of  the  chase.  But  simply 
to  know  that  a  bank  had  been  robbed  and  to 
wait  for  the  robber  to  be  caught  does  not  strike 


Cab  No.  44  45 

me  as  particularly  exciting.  All  you  could  do 
would  be  to  read  the  paper  every  morning,  and 
then  you  might  miss  the  'tern."  Maynard 
paused  a  moment  as  if  pondering  over  some- 
thing. 

"You  asked  me  a  very  curious  question  just 
now,"  he  went  on,  "so  I  will  tell  you  a  little 
story.  It's  not  a  secret,  as  I  have  told  it  sev- 
eral times  lately.  I  knew  a  young  man  that  was 
held  up  by  three  ruffians  when  he  was  on  his 
way  to  see  a  girl  that  lived  out  in  the  suburbs  of 
a  certain  town,  and  he  shot  one  of  them  plumb 
in  the  breast  with  a  forty-five  Colt's.  The  fel- 
low drew  up  his  right  leg — sure  sign  that  he  was 
shot  through  the  heart — and  staggered  back- 
ward about  twenty  feet  before  he  fell.  Every- 
body else  ran  away.  Well,  the  young  man  read 
the  morning  papers  behind  locked  doors  for 
three  weeks  after  that,  so  that  no  one  should 
see  him  start  and  tremble  or  turn  pale  when  he 
came  across  the  announcement  of  the  finding  of 
the  body. 

"Every  policeman  he  met  fascinated  him. 
One  day,  turning  round  after  a  look  in  a  shop 
window,  he  saw  a  policeman  looking  at  him 
from  across  the  street.  He  stood  stock-still 
until  the  officer  came  over  to  him  and  asked  if 


46  Cab  No.  44 

he  wanted  anything.  That  woke  him  up  and 
he  gradually  got  over  it." 

"And  what  about  the  man  he  shot?" 

"Never  heard  a  word  of  it  from  that  day  to 
this,  although  it  is  twenty  years  and  more  now. 
I  suppose  there  is  no  harm  in  finishing  the  story. 
It  was  I  that  shot  him.  That  is  why  I  was 
rather  astonished  when  you  asked  me  if  I  was 
ever  hunted." 

"Oh!"  said  Fletcher,  half  to  himself,  as  if 
suddenly  enlightened  about  something. 

The  conversation  turned  to  other  subjects, 
and  after  the  dinner  had  passed  off  very  pleas- 
antly the  two  men  went  into  the  billiard  room 
for  their  usual  game  together.  About  eleven 
o'clock,  as  they  sat  down  in  the  cafe  for  a  night- 
cap, Douglas  stepped  out  of  the  elevator  and 
waved  his  hand  to  them. 

"Don't  forget  Saturday,"  he  called  out. 

"Wait  a  minute,  old  chap.  Come  over  here," 
Maynard  called  in  return,  and  as  Douglas 
joined  them  and  accepted  the  invitation  to  a 
drink,  Maynard  added  quizzically:  "Do  you 
really  mean  that  you  are  in  earnest  about  that 
bet  with  Hartley?" 

"Never  more  in  my  life." 

"Did  you  ever!"  laughed  Maynard.  "Upon 
my  soul,  but  I  believe  you  mean  it." 


Cab  No.  44  47 

"If  you  will  allow  me,"  interrupted  Fletcher, 
"I  think  I  can  suggest  a  plan  by  which  the 
matter  might  be  settled  to  the  satisfaction  of 
those  betting  on  it.  That  is,  of  course,  if  you 
have  not  already  settled  on  a  plan  of  your  own." 

"You  are  the  very  man  we  are  looking  for," 
said  Douglas  promptly.  "I  have  thought  of 
several  schemes,  but  the  hitch  is  a  man  to  carry 
them  through.  The  executive  end  is  always  the 
hitch,  you  know.  I  know  hundreds  of  men  with 
the  gray  matter  in  their  brains  full  of  money- 
making  projects;  but  there  is  not  enough  red 
blood  in  their  hearts  to  carry  them  out." 

"You  refer,  of  course,  to  the  difficulty  of  find- 
ing an  amateur  criminal  that  would  consent  to 
be  hunted.  What  would  you  be  willing  to  pay  a 
good  man?"  Fletcher  inquired. 

"If  he  succeeded,  any  part  of  the  ten  thou- 
sand or  all  of  it.  I  never  split  hairs  in  such 
matters.  I  would  sooner  spend  ten  thousand 
more  than  have  Hartley  beat  me  out." 

"That  is  a  very  liberal  proposition,  Mr. 
Douglas,"  remarked  Fletcher  slowly,  rubbing 
his  hands.  "On  Saturday  you  shall  not  only 
have  the  scheme,  but  the  man  to  carry  it  through, 
provided  my  plan  meets  with  your  approval." 

Both  men  looked  at  Fletcher  in  astonishment 


48  Cab  No.  44 

as  he  rose  from  his  seat,  wished  them  good- 
night, and  left  the  cafe. 

"That  fellow  is  the  real  thing,"  remarked 
Douglas,  draining  his  glass.  "I  could  use  him 
in  my  business." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  next  afternoon,  when  Hardy  Max- 
well called  on  Helen  Ohlstrom  for 
what  had  now  become  an  almost 
daily  walk,  it  was  evident  to  her  that  there  was 
something  on  his  mind.  Even  while  he  talked 
to  her  he  was  apparently  turning  over  in  his 
thoughts  something  quite  foreign  to  the  subject 
in  hand. 

She  knew  he  was  fond  of  long  walks,  and  she 
had  planned  a  little  excursion  for  that  afternoon. 
It  was  up  through  the  woods  to  the  north  of 
the  city,  where  the  late  October  foliage  was  now 
at  its  best,  and  where  the  views  of  the  Hudson 
added  both  life  and  peace  to  the  scene.  It  was 
one  of  those  exhilarating  days  that  make  one 
feel  good  to  be  alive,  and  every  fiber  in  her  body 
seemed  to  respond  to  nature's  mood. 

She  tried  to  express  this  feeling  to  Maxwell, 
but  could  elicit  nothing  from  him  in  return. 
Piqued  for  the  moment,  she  became  silent  her- 
self. Maxwell,  apparently  becoming  suddenly 
conscious  of  their  mutual  silence  and  perhaps 
realizing  that  it  was  his  fault,  turned  to  her 
and  said  quietly:  "Forgive  me;  but  nature 

49 


50  Cab  No.  44 

seems  to  have  a  very  different  effect  upon  me 
from  that  which  it  has  upon  you.  At  least  that 
is  so  to-day." 

"So  you  did  hear  what  I  said,  then?"  she  an- 
swered. 

"Oh,  yes.    I  heard  you." 

"Well,  let  us  talk  about  something.  I  never 
saw  you  in  such  a  poky  mood  before,"  she  said, 
smiling  at  him  archly.  "Suppose  you  tell  me 
what  you  think  about  America  by  this  time. 
Let  us  see.  How  long  have  you  been  here? 
Several  weeks  now?" 

"America  is  certainly  a  great  country,"  he 
said  musingly,  as  if  the  subject  appealed  to  him. 
"Every  one  seems  to  get  on.  I  have  heard  of 
several  good  openings  for  a  man  with  a  little 
capital,  but  not  so  many  for  simple  ability,  un- 
less you  call  fifteen  dollars  a  week  an  oppor- 
tunity. As  a  starter  in  life  in  New  York  I 
would  take  ten  thousand  dollars  capital  in 
preference  to  the  undiscovered  or  still  untried 
abilities  of  an  Edison.  When  you  say  to  a 
man,  'I  could  be  very  useful  to  you  in  your 
business  if  you  gave  me  a  chance,'  he  listens  as 
if  you  were  telling  him  that  you  would  reform 
if  it  were  no  longer  necessary  to  steal,  or  as  if 
you  were  talking  about  the  possibility  of  selling 
goods  in  Mars ;  but  when  you  say  you  are  look- 


Cab  No.  44  51 

ing  for  a  chance  to  invest  a  little  capital,  he  is 
all  attention  in  a  moment." 

"Don't  you  think  ability  will  get  the  capital 
some  day  if  the  man  is  the  right  sort?"  As 
Helen  asked  the  question  she  turned  and  looked 
him  full  in  the  face.  It  was  a  look  that  would 
have  encouraged  any  young  man.  She  was 
wondering  to  herself  if  it  was  the  want  of 
capital  that  was  worrying  him. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so,"  he  answered,  smiling 
back  at  her.  "You  American  girls  seem  to  know 
how  to  spur  men  on  to  all  kinds  of  efforts.  It 
reminds  me  of  the  knights  of  old,  none  of  whom 
ever  seemed  able  to  do  anything  worth  while 
unless  some  woman  tied  a  favor  to  spear  or 
shield."  He  hesitated  a  moment.  Then  he 
said  with  much  seriousness :  "Do  you  know 
that  I  believe  I  could  accomplish  almost  any- 
thing in  this  country  if  I  might  wear  your 
favor?" 

"Surely,  I  shall  never  find  a  knight  more  mys- 
terious," she  answered,  with  a  smile.     "In  the 
ourneys  I  believe  it  was  the  masked  prince  who 
.Iways  won  the  favors  of  the  fairest  ladies." 

"Yes,"  he  agreed.  "The  unknown  horseman 
Kvho  had  ridden  from  a  far  country  entered  the 
lists  with  his  visor  down  and  was  always  the 
victor.  At  least,  that  is  the  way  things  went 


52  Cab  No.  44 

in  the  romances  I  used  to  read  when  I  was  a 
boy.  The  lady  of  his  heart  recognized  him  as 
her  true  knight  even  before  she  saw  his  face, 
and" — he  smiled  teasingly — "she  trusted  him 
absolutely." 

"But  sometimes  she  was  in  doubt,"  Helen 
urged.  "She  had  to  battle  with  misgivings  and 
false  reports  which  tried  her  constancy." 

Helen  spoke  in  an  even  tone,  but  avoided 
looking  at  him,  so  that  he  might  not  judge  how 
much  she  meant  him  to  accept  as  personal. 

"Could  you  not  trust  a  knight  who  is  not  a 
prince,  but  simply  a  soldier  of  fortune?"  he 
asked. 

"Even  if  he  kept  his  visor  down?"  she 
questioned. 

She  laughed  at  her  own  sally,  and  they  walked 
on  for  quite  a  distance  without  speaking.  As 
she  swung  along  the  country  road,  her  cheeks 
aglow  with  the  fresh  air  and  exercise,  she  made 
a  charming  picture  which  attracted  many  a 
sidelong  glance  from  her  companion.  At  a  place 
where  a  stone  wall,  covered  with  a  tangle  of 
brown  vines,  invited  them  to  stop  for  a  few  mo- 
ments to  enjoy  the  view  of  the  autumn  world, 
Maxwell  assisted  Helen  to  a  seat.  Standing  be- 
fore her  he  said: 

"I  must  beg  your  pardon  for  presuming  to 


Cab  No.  44  53 

hope  that  you  might  let  me  be  your  knight.  I 
might  have  known  that  some  real  prince  already 
wears  your  colors  and  holds  the  pledge  of  your 
constancy." 

His  serious  manner  and  his  searching  glance 
were  such  that  she  could  not  deceive  him,  even 
though  she  might  have  liked  to  make  him  suffer 
a  little  from  the  same  uncertainty  that  vexed  her 
when  she  thought  of  him. 

"Neither  prince  nor  knight  has  the  right  to 
wear  token  of  mine,"  she  declared  truthfully, 
looking  away  from  him. 

"Then  give  me  the  right,"  he  pleaded. 

"That  would  mean  that  I  must  have  too 
much  faith  in  you,"  Helen  declared,  shaking  her 
head.  "If  I  once  committed  myself  to  any 
knight  I  should  have  to  believe  in  him  abso- 
lutely, even  though  all  sorts  of  misgivings  came 
to  me.  Remember  that  you  shook  my  confi- 
dence in  you  when  you  told  me  that  dinner 
story." 

She  retained  the  bantering  tone,  although  she 
knew  he  had  already  won  something  more  than 
faith  and  friendship. 

"If  I  could  find  a  lady  who  would  remain  un- 
moved by  appearances  or  by  ill  report,"  he  said, 
"if  I  could  win  her  while  I  still  wore  my  visor 


'54  Cab  No.  44 

down,  I  think  I  could  perform  deeds  well  worthy 
of  the  cause." 

"Why,  you  are  talking  in  exact  story-book 
style.  I  can  almost  imagine  that  your  walking 
stick  is  a  lance."  The  girl  laughed  as  she  slid 
from  the  wall  and  untied  a  bunch  of  violets 
that  she  wore  at  her  belt,  bound  with  a  purple 
ribbon.  Hastily  disengaging  the  flowers,  she 
tied  the  ribbon  to  the  handle  of  his  stick  with 
mock  solemnity. 

"Now  you  have  committed  yourself,"  Max- 
well asserted.  "I  am  not  a  knight  who  can  per- 
mit any  lady  to  laugh  at  him.  I  accept  your 
token,  and  shall  hold  you  to  the  pledge  it 
signifies." 

"It  is  all  a  jest,"  Helen  hastened  to  say,  feel- 
ing strangely  uncomfortable.  "I  forgot  that  I 
was  talking  to  an  Englishman  who  does  not 
understand  our  American  humor." 

She  assumed  her  most  dignified  manner  as 
they  turned  back  toward  the  city. 

"Did  you  mean  what  you  said  about  believ- 
ing in  a  person,  even  though  all  sorts  of  bad  re- 
ports might  be  brought  to  you?"  Maxwell  in- 
quired after  they  had  been  silent  a  long  time. 

"I  was  referring  to  an  imaginary  knight," 
Helen  answered,  with  her  chin  in  the  air. 

"Let  us  take  the  case  of  a  person  not  im- 


Cab  No.  44  55 

aginary.  If  a  man  won  your  friendship,  would 
you  be  able  to  keep  your  faith  in  his  integrity, 
even  though  you  might  hear  rumors  that  were 
derogatory?" 

Again  she  felt  that  he  was  hiding  something. 
She  was  suddenly  afraid  of  him,  for  she  felt 
that  he  had  gained  a  subtle  mastery  over  her. 
She  would  have  liked  to  snatch  the  purple  rib- 
bon from  his  walking  stick,  but  he  was  wary 
and  kept  it  well  out  of  reach.  As  she  did  not 
answer  his  questions,  he  answered  them  himself. 

"You  are  like  every  one  else,  I  see,  very 
modest  about  your  own  good  qualities,  uncon- 
scious of  them  perhaps.  I  knew  the  first  time 
I  ever  saw  you  that  you  were  not  the  kind  of 
girl  to  be  changed  by  anything  others  might 
say  after  you  had  once  made  up  your  mind.  If 
I  once  gained  your  confidence,  if  by  some  miracle 
I  could  win  your  trust,  nothing  but  my  own 
actions  would  ever  alter  you.  Am  I  not  right?" 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so,"  she  said  lightly.  "I 
have  had  some  very  good  men  friends.  Some- 
how, I  am  very  lucky  that  way.  Every  man  I 
have  known  has  been  nice  and  true  and  straight." 

"Indeed !  You  are  very  fortunate.  Few  girls 
as  attractive  as  you  are  escape  the  attention  of 
a  few  black  sheep." 

"I  never  knew  any  one  who  could  tell  the  mut- 


56  Cab  No.  44 

ton  of  a  black  sheep  from  the  mutton  of  a  white 
one.  I  suppose  it  is  the  same  way  with  people. 
Beneath  the  surface  there  is  not  much  differ- 
ence; but  I  hate  those  people  that  are  always 
ready  to  believe  anything  bad  they  may  hear 
about  their  friends,  and  there  is  nothing  makes 
me  so  mad  as  to  have  them  repeat  it  at  every 
opportunity  before  they  are  sure  it  is  true — or 
even  then." 

"But  it  is  because  they  think  it  is  true  that 
they  believe  it  to  be  their  duty  to  warn  you 
against  the  black  sheep,"  he  urged,  smiling  at 
her  earnestness. 

"Yes.  Some  men  have  a  nasty  habit  of  warn- 
ing girls  against  their  men  friends.  Black  sheep 
don't  bite  any  more  than  white  ones.  It  is  the 
dogs  that  are  supposed  to  take  care  of  the  sheep 
that  bite,  and  it  is  usually  the  white  sheep  that 
get  bitten.  Whenever  a  person  tells  me  some- 
thing nasty  about  a  mutual  friend,  I  always 
think  of  the  way  they  will  probably  talk  about 
me  some  day." 

"Then  you  admit  that  I  estimated  your  char- 
acter aright?"  he  said,  smiling  at  her  admiringly. 

"I  told  you  once  before  that  I  was  very 
transparent  and  shallow,"  she  answered,  with- 
out looking  at  him.  "But  we  have  been  talk- 
ing like  two  silly  children."  The  seriousness 


Cab  No.  44  57 

of  his  manner  disturbed  her  somehow.  With  a 
woman's  intuition  she  understood  that  he  had 
the  power  to  make  her  suffer.  It  was  all  very 
well  to  amuse  herself  with  a  handsome  English- 
man, but  had  she  not  been  rather  reckless  of 
consequences?  Had  she  not  presumed  on  the 
fact  that  her  parents  had  received  Hardy  Max- 
well into  the  family  almost  on  the  footing  of  a 
relative?  It  was  as  if  he  were  at  least  the  cousin 
who  had  sent  him  to  them.  Her  father  and 
mother  had  always  guarded  her  with  old-fash- 
ioned vigilance,  and  she  had  enjoyed  the  un- 
,  wonted  freedom  of  the  last  few  weeks.  She 
realized  that  she  could  not  tell  them  just  how 
far  her  acquaintance  with  Hardy  Maxwell  had 
progressed.  With  a  flush  of  shame  she  remem- 
bered how  she  had  urged  him  to  refrain  from 
mentioning  the  dinner  story  and  the  betting  in- 
cidents connected  with  it  which  had  shocked  her 
so  much. 

A  few  minutes  later  and  they  were  back  in 
the  Brooklyn  drawing-room,  where  they  found 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ohlstrom  awaiting  them  with  the 
sort  of  impatience  that  comes  of  a  delay  of  the 
dinner  hour. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SATURDAY  night  came,  and  the  others 
were  at  Green's  on  time;  but  Hartley 
did  not  appear.  The  proprietor  was 
very  attentive,  as  usual,  and  assured  them  that 
he  would  see  to  it  himself  that  the  dinner  should 
not  spoil  while  they  were  trying  to  locate  Mr. 
Hartley  by  telephoning  to  various  places.  Ke 
asked  Fletcher  how  the  American  restaurants 
pleased  him,  and  bowed  at  the  compliment  he 
drew  forth,  afterward  paying  particular  atten- 
tion to  the  young  Englishman. 

When  Hartley  was  finally  reached  at  one  of 
his  clubs,  he  seemed  to  be  quite  taken  by  sur- 
prise at  the  announcement  that  Mr.  Frank 
Douglas  was  on  hand  with  a  proposition  that 
would  settle  that  little  bet.  Dr.  Ramie  was  at 
the  telephone. 

"Why,  you  don't  mean  that  Douglas  was  in 
earnest  about  any  such  absurd  proposition  as, 
that?"  came  from  the  other  end. 

"He  certainly  was.  You  know  he  booked 
the  bet  at  the  time,  on  condition  that  some 
scheme  to  decide  it  should  be  forthcoming  by 

58 


Cab  No.  44  59 

to-night.  Well,  he  is  here  with  his  scheme  and 
his  check.  I  am  to  be  the  stakeholder." 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,  you  must  be  all  crazy. 
Why,  the  whole  thing  was  just  a  little  after- 
dinner  argument." 

"I  hardly  think  you  can  say  that,  Mr.  Hart- 
ley. You  made  the  proposition  yourself.  At 
least,  you  were  the  one  that  offered  to  back  the 
police  for  any  amount.  When  Mr.  Douglas 
said  he  would  take  you  on  for  ten  thousand, 
you  seemed  only  too  willing,  so  he  booked  the 
bet.  I  believe  the  first  idea  was  that  you  were 
to  suggest  a  test;  but  Douglas  and  Fletcher 
seem  to  have  saved  you  that  trouble,  and " 

"Fletcher?     Who's  Fletcher?" 

The  doctor  explained,  adding:  "We  are  all 
here  waiting  for  you  to  hear  the  scheme  and  put 
up  your  money." 

"You  don't  mean  it?  Why,  it's  the  most  ex- 
traordinary thing  I  ever  heard  of.  Nothing  but 
after-dinner  talk,  my  dear  fellow,  I  assure  you." 

"Then  you  have  lost  faith  in  the  police,  and 
want  to  back  out?"  Dr.  Ramie  said  this  with  a 
wink  to  himself. 

"Back  out !  In  a  bet  with  Douglas?  Never  1 
Not  on  your  life!  Say,  I  cannot  possibly  get 
away  from  this  crowd  before  eleven.  Eat  your 


60  Cab  No.  44 

dinner  and  go  to  the  show  or  something,  and 
I'll  meet  you  later,  anywhere  you  say." 

"Why,  it's  after  eight  now.  We'll  stay  here. 
Get  here  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"All  right.  But  say:  not  a  word  to  them 
about  any  backing  out.  You  understand?  All 
right.  Good-by." 

There  was  not  much  trouble  in  passing  the 
time  until  Hartley  arrived,  which  was  soon  after 
ten.  The  dinner  had  occupied  more  than  an 
hour,  and  when  the  cigars  and  coffee  were 
brought  in  the  members  of  the  little  party  had 
settled  themselves  down  to  an  intimate  talk. 

As  Maynard  poured  out  the  coffee  he  brought 
into  full  view  a  ring  that  he  wore  on  his  right 
hand. 

"Rather  a  peculiar  ring  that,  if  you  will  par- 
don me  for  calling  attention  to  it,"  observed 
Douglas.  "I  never  noticed  it  before.  Did  not 
know  you  wore  a  ring." 

"Yes,  it  is  odd,"  said  Maynard,  taking  off 
the  ring  and  showing  it.  "The  design  is  a  small 
round  tablet,  you  see,  with  a  drudenfuss  cut 
lightly  upon  it.  Looks  as  if  it  had  been 
scratched  by  hand  almost.  From  under  one  end 
peeps  a  snake's  head,  and  from  the  other  a 
fish's.  Funny  you  did  not  notice  it  before,"  he 
added  with  his  usual  nervous  little  laugh.  "I 


Cab  No.  44  61 

believe  a  drudenfuss  keeps  out  confusion  and 
trouble  if  you  make  it  yourself;  but  I  did  not 
make  this  one." 

"Family  heirloom,  I  suppose?"  remarked 
Fletcher. 

"No,  it  was  given  to  me."  Maynard  put  the 
ring  back  upon  his  finger  as  he  spoke.  "I  be- 
lieve it  has  quite  a  history.  If  I  were  super- 
stitious I  would  not  have  accepted  it,  as  it  has 
been  associated  with  two  violent  deaths." 

When  Hartley  arrived  they  got  down  at 
once  to  the  business  of  the  evening.  It  appeared 
that  Maynard  and  Dr.  Ramie  had  been  over  the 
ground  with  Milton  Fletcher  in  advance,  and 
were  quite  familiar  with  the  scheme  proposed. 
The  doctor  was  full  of  the  business  involved, 
and  seemed  to  attach  most  importance  to  the 
proper  understanding  of  the  conditions  and  to 
the  posting  of  the  bet.  Maynard,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  full  of  the  joke,  as  he  persisted  in 
calling  it. 

Douglas  did  not  waste  any  time  in  laying  be- 
fore them  the  plan  that  he  had  elaborated, 
which  was  that  one  of  them  should  place  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  money  in  a  safe  somewhere,  and 
that  they  should  hire  some  man  to  steal  it. 
After  this  man  had  had  sufficient  time  to  get 


62  Cab  No.  44 

away  they  could  go  to  the  police  and  raise  the 
hue  and  cry  after  him. 

This  plan  was  speedily  demolished  by 
Fletcher,  who  pointed  out  its  great  weakness, 
which  was  that  the  whole  party  would  inevi- 
tably be  drawn  into  the  police  net  as  witnesses, 
and  would  have  to  betray  the  quarry  themselves. 

Maynard,  Hartley  and  Dr.  Ramie  were  evi- 
dently pleased  by  the  businesslike  way  in  which 
Fletcher  presented  his  reasons  for  disagreeing 
with  Douglas.  Douglas  himself  was  so  strongly 
impressed  by  the  young  Englishman's  acumen 
and  foresight  that  during  a  pause  in  the  con- 
versation he  asked  Fletcher  if  he  would  not 
like  to  go  into  a  broker's  office. 

"Of  course  I  don't  want  to  inquire  into  your 
affairs,  Mr.  Fletcher,"  he  remarked,  "but  unless 
I  am  much  mistaken  there  is  a  good  deal  more 
'do'  than  'blow'  about  you.  There  are  great 
openings  in  this  country  for  young  men  that  can 
keep  their  mouths  shut  until  they  have  thought 
over  what  should  be  said,  or  until  what  is  to 
do  is  done.  I  could  put  you  into  a  place  where 
a  small  partnership  might  grow  into  something 
worth  while." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  stocks,"  re- 
plied Fletcher,  with  a  smile  that  showed  he  was 
not  displeased  at  the  compliment.  "I  have  a 


Cab  No.  44  63 

pretty  good  berth  now.  At  the  same  time,  I 
am  seriously  thinking  about  making  my  home 
in  the  States,  if  I  can  find  an  opening.  It  is  very 
good  of  you  to  suggest  the  possibility  as  to  my 
future,  but  for  the  present  I  think  it  will  be 
better  to  finish  the  matter  in  hand." 

"Let  us  have  your  idea  of  what  might  be 
done,  then,"  demanded  the  doctor. 

"My  plan  is  briefly  this,"  said  Fletcher: 
"There  are  two  or  three  conditions  which  limit 
the  problem  and  increase  its  difficulties.  In  the 
first  place,  in  case  the  amateur  criminal  is 
caught,  it  will  be  necessary  that  there  should  be 
some  loophole  provided  for  his  escape.  It  might 
be  shown  that  the  whole  thing  was  a  mistake, 
and  that  no  actual  robbery  had  occurred.  Other- 
wise, if  the  robbery  were  real,  the  whole  lot  of 
us  might  go  to  jail  as  accessories  before  the  fact. 

"Another  point  is  that  it  will  be  necessary 
to  commit  the  robbery  without  having  to  com- 
mit burglary  or  assault  on  the  person  as  well. 
You  might  announce  that  nothing  had  been 
actually  stolen,  after  all ;  but  you  could  not  deny 
that  a  house  had  been  broken  into.  If  it  were 
highway  robbery,  the  person  who  was  held  up 
could  hardly  claim,  after  the  thief  was  caught, 
that  it  was  all  a  mistake,  and  that  no  one  had 
ever  attacked  him. 


64  Cab  No.  44 

"Any  such  things  as  robbery  of  the  mails,  or 
of  an  express  company,  would  never  do;  be- 
cause they  would  not  be  humbugged  by  any 
story  of  'nothing  in  it'  after  they  had  caught 
the  thief,  but  would  probably  dig  out  the  whole 
story  on  the  witness  stand. 

"As  one  of  the  conditions  of  the  bet  is  that 
the  police  should  not  be  able  to  identify  the 
criminal  by  his  work,  nor  be  led  to  him  by  his 
pals — a  very  important  condition,  by  the  way — 
it  will  be  necessary  for  the  identity  of  the  thief 
to  be  a  mystery  from  the  first.  This  will  com- 
pel the  police  to  find  out  who  he  is  before  pro- 
ceeding to  the  second  part  of  their  task,  his 
arrest.  I  should  insist  on  the  importance  of  pro- 
viding against  the  possibility  of  the  man's  own 
friends,  or  supposed  friends,  betraying  him  to 
the  police.  In  cases  of  robbery  the  difficulty  is 
always  to  know  who  did  it.  If  you  read  the 
papers  you  must  have  observed  that.  But  in 
murders  the  difficulty  is  to  find  the  man  after 
his  identity  is  clearly  established." 

"My,  but  there's  a  lot  to  think  of!"  remarked 
the  doctor. 

"What  I  propose  is  this,"  continued  Fletcher. 
"Some  one  having  about  his  person  valuable 
jewels  or  a  large  sum  of  money  should  go  to 
a  certain  hotel.  Money  would  be  better,  if  the 


Cab  No.  44  65 

sum  were  large  enough  to  interest  the  police  in 
the  case.  That  the  victim  had  this  money  about 
him  should  be  possible  of  proof  by  his  having 
drawn  it,  received  it,  or  taken  it  out  of  a  safe 
in  the  presence  of  witnesses  just  before  going 
to  the  hotel. 

"The  robbery  should  take  place  in  this  hotel, 
and  it  should  be  done  without  having  to  break 
any  locks  or  climb  through  any  windows.  Prob- 
ably a  very  simple  way  would  be  to  suppose  that 
the  money  had  been  placed  in  a  pocket-book 
and  put  in  the  inside  pocket  of  a  coat;  whereas 
it  had  actually  been  placed  in  the  pocket  of  an 
overcoat.  This  overcoat  could  be  carelessly 
thrown  on  the  bed  or  a  chair  upon  the  guest's 
arrival  at  the  hotel.  Thinking  the  money  was 
in  his  coat  pocket,  the  guest  could  mention  to 
the  clerk  at  the  desk  that  he  had  a  large  sum 
of  money  to  put  in  the  safe  in  a  few  minutes; 
but  wanted  to  get  some  papers  out  of  his  bag 
as  soon  as  it  was  sent  upstairs,  or  something  of 
that  sort. 

"A  call  to  the  telephone,  or  a  momentary 
absence  from  the  room  for  any  purpose,  would 
give  the  desired  opportunity  for  the  abstraction 
of  the  pocket-book.  Some  twenty  minutes  later, 
when  the  guest  discovered  that  the  pocket-book 
was  not  in  his  coat,  he  would  rush  to  his  over- 


66  Cab  No.  44 

coat.  The  next  thing  would  be  the  alarm,  and 
after  that,  the  thirty  days'  hunt  would  be  on." 

Hartley  had  listened  up  to  this  point  with 
the  greatest  attention;  but  he  could  not  help  in- 
terposing a  question. 

"But  if  the  man  who  is  robbed  could  call 
witnesses  to  prove  that  he  had  the  money  on 
his  person  when  he  entered  the  hotel,  how  could 
he  claim  it  was  all  a  mistake  if  the  thief  was 
caught  with  the  pocket-book  on  him?" 

"The  thief  is  not  to  keep  the  pocket-book. 
The  mistake  could  be  explained  by  the  dis- 
covery that  the  victim  had  put  it  in  his  over- 
coat pocket  before  leaving  home,  thinking  it  was 
in  his  inside  coat.  In  the  haste  of  leaving  home 
he  had  put  on  another  overcoat  at  the  last 
minute,  leaving  the  pocket-book  hanging  in  the 
other  coat." 

"And  how  do  you  purpose  getting  the  pocket- 
book  back  into  the  other  coat  at  home?" 

"The  man  that  does  the  robbery  is  to  bring 
the  pocket-book  here,  as  evidence  that  the  crime 
has  been  committed.  It  is  to  be  handed  to  Dr. 
Ramie,  who  will  see  that  it  finds  its  way  back 
to  the  coat  that  has  been  left  behind.  The  man 
is  to  have  twenty  minutes  clear  start  after  he 
gives  up  the  pocket-book." 

"I  should  not  fancy  leaving  a  pocket-book 


Cab  No.  44  '67 

full  of  money  hanging  up  in  the  hall  for  a 
month,"  remarked  Hartley,  with  a  laugh. 

"It  will  be  in  a  clothes-closet  in  an  apart- 
ment, and  the  closet  will  be  locked.  This  time 
of  year  it  is  not  unusual  for  a  man  to  fancy  he 
will  need  a  warmer  overcoat  before  going  out." 

"They  might  say  he  dropped  the  pocket-book 
between  the  house  and  the  hotel." 

"He  is  to  take  a  cab  from  place  to  place. 
rAnd  he  will  tell  the  cabman  to  wait  for  him, 
as  he  is  going  out  again  as  soon  as  he  gets  his 
valuables  in  the  safe.  The  cab  will  still  be  wait- 
ing in  front  of  the  hotel  when  the  alarm  is  given, 
so  that  it  may  be  searched  for  the  money." 

"Scheme's  all  right  but  for  one  thing,"  re- 
marked Douglas.  "Where  are  you  going  to  get 
a  man  to  be  robbed  and  a  man  to  rob  him?" 

"That  has  also  been  provided  for,"  declared 
Fletcher  quietly. 

"You  bet  it  has,"  put  in  the  doctor,  with  a 
laugh.  "That's  the  principal  part  of  it." 

"And  who  is  your  man  ?    Or  is  that  a  secret  ?" 

"I  understand,"  said  Fletcher  quietly,  "that 
Mr.  Douglas  is  willing  to  pay  handsomely  for 
his  share  of  the  expense,  in  case  the  man  suc- 
ceeds in  eluding  the  police  for  a  month.  I  sup- 
pose that  if  he  is  caught,  and  Mr.  Hartley  wins, 
he  will  stand  the  expense?"  Mr.  Hartley 


68'  Cab  No.  44 

nodded.  "Suppose  we  say  that  if  the  man  suc- 
ceeds he  shall  get  half  the  money.  That  will  be 
five  thousand?" 

"He  can  have  the  whole  ten,  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned,"  said  Douglas  promptly. 

"Same  here,"  said  Hartley,  not  to  be  outdone 
in  generosity.  "I  don't  want  the  money.  But 
it's  a  cinch.  The  police  would  ferret  that  out 
in  thirty  hours." 

"Then,  gentlemen,"  continued  Fletcher,  the 
curious  cunning  look  that  Helen  Ohlstrom  did 
not  like  coming  into  his  face,  "if  it  is  agreeable 
to  Mr.  Hartley  to  give  the  doctor  his  check  to 
cover  the  one  already  deposited  by  Mr.  Doug- 
las, the  robbery  will  take  place  on  Thursday 
night,  at  the  Earlswood  Hotel.  We  selected 
that  because  it  has  two  entrances,  or  rather  two 
exits." 

"And  the  actors  in  this  little  comedy?"  asked 
Hartley,  taking  out  his  note-book  and  jotting 
down  the  name  of  the  hotel;  "I  suppose  that  is 
a  secret." 

Fletcher  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  glanced 
at  the  doctor.  Maynard  smiled  and  nodded  as 
if  consenting  to  something.  Fletcher  looked 
Hartley  full  in  the  face  and  said  slowly: 

"Mr.  Maynard  has  kindly  consented  to  be 
robbed,  and  I  will  do  the  trick  myself." 


Cab  No.  44  69 

George  Hartley's  face  was  a  study.  Douglas 
laughed.  Dr.  Ramie,  quite  unmoved,  relieved 
the  strain  by  reminding  Hartley  to  send  down 
that  check  in  the  morning. 

"Nice  exhibition  you  will  make  of  yourself 
if  you  are  caught!"  was  the  first  thing  Hartley 
said,  his  tone  being  quite  serious. 

"Not  at  all,  sir.  I  am  a  foreigner,"  Fletcher 
replied.  "Practically  no  one  here  knows  me. 
I  shall  go  to  another  hotel  and  change  my  name 
before  Thursday,  probably  to-morrow  or  next 
day.  If  they  catch  me,  it  will  be  James  Wal- 
ton's name  that  will  go  on  the  blotter  until  such 
time  as  Mr.  Maynard  gets  home  and  finds  the 
pocket-book  in  his  overcoat.  But  I  assure  you 
I  cannot  imagine  what  clue  the  police  will  be- 
gin upon.  They  will  not  even  have  a  chance 
to  inquire  about  men  who  have  more  money  to 
spend  than  usual,  because  the  pocket-book  will 
be  given  up  at  once.  I  have  so  little  fear  of 
being  caught  that  if  I  had  the  money  I  should 
put  a  pony  on  myself." 

"I  have  a  hundred  with  you,  you  know,  Hart- 
ley," put  in  the  doctor.  Mr.  Hartley  nodded. 
Then  turning  to  Fletcher,  Hartley  said : 

"I  think  you  have  enough  on  now.  Ten 
thousand  if  you  succeed.  Don't  be  greedy.  But 
let  me  understand  this  clearly  now,"  taking  out 


70  Cab  No.  44 

his  note-book  again.  "Thirty  days  is  the  limit. 
If  you  succeed  you  get  ten  thousand  dollars. 
Mighty  good  pay  that.  If  you  fail  you  get  noth- 
ing; therefore  I  shall  get  the  whole  stakes  if  I 
win.  Is  that  right?" 

"Perfectly,"  said  Fletcher  quickly,  with  a 
smile. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  interrupted  Douglas.  "You 
said  you  would  give  up  your  end  of  it  if  you 
won,  Hartley." 

"No.  You  misunderstood  me.  I  said  that 
if  I  were  taking  your  end  I  would.  It  may  be 
all  right  to  pay  a  man  for  succeeding;  but  not 
for  failure." 

Douglas  pursed  his  lips  with  an  expression  of 
contempt;  but  Fletcher  did  not  object.  Hart- 
ley went  on,  still  scribbling  in  his  note-book: 

"And  it  is  next  Thursday  night  you  are  going 
to  tee  up?" 

"That  is  the  day  we  fixed  on,"  said  Fletcher; 
"and  we  made  the  hour  late  enough  to  prevent 
its  getting  into  the  morning  papers.  I  shall  ex- 
pect you  gentlemen  to  be  here  at  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  That  will  interfere  with  no  other 
engagements.  I  shall  present  myself  with  the 
pocket-book  as  soon  after  one  o'clock  as  I  can. 
You  are  then  to  remain  in  this  room  twenty  min- 
utes, in  order  to  give  me  time  to  get  clear  away." 


Cab  No.  44  71 

"And  don't  forget,  gentlemen,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, "that  we  are  all  to  meet  here  thirty  days 
from  next  Thursday  night,  which  will  be  Satur- 
day, at  eight  o'clock  sharp,  for  the  paying  over 
of  the  stakes.  If  you  are  not  here  I  shall  pocket 
the  money  myself." 

"And  if  the  jig  is  up  before  thirty  days?" 
asked  Hartley,  still  scribbling. 

"Meet  here  and  settle  up  thirty  days  from 
Thursday,  win  or  lose,"  said  the  doctor  posi- 
tively. "That  is  the  condition  to  which  you 
will  please  sign  your  names  here." 

Douglas  stood  up,  stretched  himself,  and 
laughed.  Hartley  seemed  still  to  be  only  half 
convinced  that  the  whole  thing  was  not  a  joke 
of  some  kind.  Maynard  was  full  of  animation, 
and  he  slapped  Fletcher  on  the  back  as  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"By  Jove !  old  fellow,  I  believe  you  are  right. 
This  is  going  to  be  more  fun  than  hunting  with- 
out a  dog!" 

They  all  turned  to  go.  Hartley  whispered  to 
Fletcher:  "And  what  hotel  will  you  stop  at 
under  the  name  of  James  Walton?" 

"I  have  arranged  to  go  to  the  Realton,"  re- 
plied Fletcher  quietly.  And  then  once  more  he 
smiled  that  same  cunning  smile  as  he  saw  Hart- 
ley jot  down  the  name  in  his  note-book. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ON  Wednesday  evening  Hardy  Maxwell 
dined  at  the  Ohlstroms'  home.  Al- 
ways quiet  in  company,  he  showed 
even  less  than  his  usual  animation  during  the 
dinner-  Helen  thought  that  she  detected  the 
symptoms  of  the  same  preoccupied  manner  that 
had  annoyed  her  at  the  beginning  of  their  long 
afternoon  walk. 

Hardy  made  no  attempt  to  lead  the  conversa- 
tion. What  little  he  had  to  say  was  addressed 
chiefly  to  Mr.  Ohlstrom.  Helen,  finding  her- 
self almost  ignored,  devoted  her  attention  to 
her  mother,  who  was  too  much  concerned  with 
the  arrangements  of  the  dinner  to  notice  her 
guest's  manner. 

Helen  wondered  what  could  make  Maxwell 
so  reserved.  In  some  things,  she  had  to  admit 
to  herself,  he  was  certainly  peculiar.  When  she 
had  asked  him  about  a  certain  play  that  she  had 
seen,  it  was  evident  that  he  had  not  been  inside 
a  theater  since  he  landed.  He  spoke  once  of 
wishing  that  he  could  go  to  some  indoor  athletic 
meeting,  but  he  did  not  explain  what  prevented 
him  from  attending  it.  The  more  she  thought 

72 


Cab  No.  44  73 

over  their  acquaintance,  the  more  she  was  im- 
pressed by  a  certain  air  of  mystery  about  him; 
something  that  she  had  not  yet  penetrated; 
something,  she  almost  feared  to  confess  to  her- 
self, that  did  not  ring  quite  true.  He  had  the 
power  to  assume  an  air  of  absolute  detachment; 
he  had  the  habit  of  shutting  himself  behind  an 
impenetrable  wall  of  polite  impersonality. 

After  dinner,  seated  in  front  of  a  cozy  open 
fire  in  the  parlor,  he  relapsed  into  a  sort  of  semi- 
inattention  that  was  particularly  annoying  to  her 
just  then. 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,"  she  said  sud- 
denly, after  several  attempts  to  interest  him  in 
something. 

"Do  I  appear  to  be  thinking  about  something 
besides  you?"  he  asked,  with  a  smile. 

"Well!  I  should  say  that  if  your  thoughts 
were  on  a  girl  at  all,  she  must  be  a  long  way 
from  here." 

"Perhaps  I  was  thinking  about  a  girl  who  is 
here  now  being  a  long  way  from  here,"  and  he 
looked  at  her  quizzically,  while  she  began  to 
wonder  just  what  he  meant,  and  what  was  com- 
ing next. 

"I  suppose  you  have  heard  of  girls  traveling 
long  distances  to  get  married,"  he  went  on. 


74  Cab  No.  44 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  scheme?"  He  spoke 
very  slowly  and  deliberately. 

"Why,  really,"  she  said  with  a  little  gasp,  "I 
can't  say  that  I  have.  I  should  not  care  for  it 
myself." 

"But  suppose  the  man  could  not  come  to  you, 
on  account  of  his  business,  or  something  of  that 
kind?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"I  should  want  to  be  very  sure  of  the  man 
before  taking  such  a  step,  and  very  much  in 
love  with  him.  But  I  don't  think  I  should  care 
for  it.  In  fact,  I  know  I  shouldn't.  But  I  shall 
never  be  called  on  to  make  such  a  decision,  so 
what  does  it  matter?" 

"Then  you  would  be  willing  to  give  him  up 
rather  than  travel  to  a  foreign  country  to  marry 
him,  if  he  could  not  come  to  you?" 

"Really,  Mr.  Maxwell,  I  don't  see  the  use  of 
discussing  such  things.  People  don't  get  en- 
gaged by  correspondence.  If  they  have  been 
together  long  enough  to  love  each  other,  why 
not  get  married  before  they  allow  oceans  to 
(separate  them?  But  there!  Let's  talk  about 
something  else." 

"But  suppose  that  the  man's  circumstances 
were  such  that  he  could  not  marry  at  that  par- 


Cab  No.  44  75 

ticular  time,  and  that  he  knew  he  could  not  come 
back?" 

She  felt  that  he  was  looking  at  her  intently, 
and  she  was  also  conscious  that  he  was  lean- 
ing forward  toward  her  in  his  chair.  Somehow 
she  felt  uneasy. 

"Please  let  us  talk  about  something  else.  I 
am  not  good  on  problems  of  that  kind.  They 
are  too  suggestive  of  something  irregular  in  a 
person's  life."  She  noticed  that  he  winced  a 
little  when  she  said  that,  so  she  hastened  to  add: 

"It  seems  to  me  that  the  bridegroom  should 
always  come  to  claim  his  bride.  The  idea  of  a 
girl's  crawling  off  to  a  foreign  country  to  stand 
up  and  get  married  before  a  lot  of  total 
strangers !  Not  a  soul  around  into  whose  arms 
she  could  throw  herself  and  have  a  good  cry, 
if  she  felt  like  it." 

"Then  I  understand,"  he  said  slowly,  draw- 
ing his  chair  still  nearer,  "that  it  would  be  use- 
less for  a  man  to  propose  to  you  unless  he  could 
come  to  your  own  home  to  marry  you?" 

There  was  something  in  his  movement  toward 
her,  and  in  the  earnestness  of  his  voice,  that 
almost  frightened  her.  At  the  same  time  it  fas- 
cinated her. 

"Really,"  she  stammered,  "I  don't  understand 
you." 


76  Cab  No.  44 

"Yes,  you  do,  Helen!"  She  drew  in  her 
under  lip  convulsively  on  hearing  herself  called 
by  her  first  name,  and  felt  a  little  shiver  as  he 
touched  her  left  hand  lightly  with  his  right. 
Somehow  she  felt  that  the  safest  thing  she  could 
do  would  be  to  stand  up ;  but  she  found  he  still 
held  her  hand  as  he  stood  up,  facing  her,  and 
looking  fixedly  at  her  face. 

"That  is  your  condition,  is  it?  That  you  will 
never  give  yourself  to  a  man  that  cannot  come 
for  his  bride?" 

"That  would  depend  on  the  man,  after  all, 
I  suppose,"  she  faltered,  and  the  words  as- 
tonished her  as  they  came.  But  when  she 
realized  what  they  meant  she  felt  a  feeling  of 
relief  and  looked  up  at  him  with  a  smile. 

"And  if  I  were  the  man  that  asked  you?" 
he  whispered  tenderly,  putting  his  arm  round  her 
waist  and  drawing  her  to  him. 

She  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  she  unconsciously  laid  her  dis- 
engaged hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"You  would  come  for  me,  I  know,  if  it  was 
in  heaven  or  earth.  But  if  not,"  sinking  her 
head  upon  his  shoulder  as  she  felt  his  lips  touch 
her  cheek,  "I  suppose  I  would  go  to  you." 

The  last  words  sank  into  a  whisper  so  low 
that  he  could  hardly  hear  them.  One  linger- 


Cab  No.  44  77 

ing  embrace,  and  then  she  started  from  him  with 
a  little  fluttering  laugh,  and  ran  upstairs,  kiss- 
ing her  hand  to  him  for  good-night.  Safely  in 
her  room,  she  threw  herself  on  the  bed  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  listening  for  him 
to  go  out.  And  then,  far  into  the  night,  the 
burning  flame  of  a  fierce  faith  in  her  lover 
struggled  against  the  chilling  influence  of  an  in- 
definable something  that  suggested  doubt  and 
fear. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THURSDAY  night  was  very  cold.  Mr. 
James  Walton  stepped  out  of  the 
Realton  with  the  collar  of  his  top 
coat  well  turned  up  and  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
He  did  not  carry  a  cane  in  America. 

As  he  passed  the  row  of  cabs  standing  near 
the  hotel  his  interest  in  them  was  sufficiently  evi- 
dent to  induce  several  of  the  drivers  to  make  a 
jump  for  their  vehicles  and  touch  their  hats. 
But  he  passed  on  without  even  shaking  his  head 
in  answer  to  their  eager  "Cab,  sir?" 

A  few  blocks  away  he  came  to  another  cab- 
stand, and  reviewed  it  with  the  same  apparent 
interest  and  with  about  the  same  result.  Still 
further  away  he  came  to  another,  and  in  this 
manner  he  visited  a  number  of  cab-ranks  in  front 
of  stations  and  hotels,  as  if  he  were  on  a  tour 
of  inspection  of  that  particular  industry. 

Finally  he  stopped  abruptly  in  front  of  a 
particular  cab  and  looked  the  driver  over  care- 
fully. Evidently  satisfied  with  the  review,  which 
the  good-natured  Irishman  took  in  good  part, 
he  opened  the  door  himself  and  got  in.  He 
told  the  driver  to  take  him  to  a  certain  corner 

78 


Cab  No.  44  79 

uptown.  Arrived  at  the  street,  he  put  his  head 
out  and  ordered  the  driver  to  turn  to  the  left 
and  to  go  slowly.  He  seemed  to  be  looking  for 
a  particular  number,  but  when  the  driver  asked 
him  what  number  he  wanted  he  did  not  answer. 

Presently  he  called  to  the  cabman  to  stop.  On 
getting  out  he  mounted  the  steps  of  a  house  a 
few  doors  further  on  and  rang  the  bell.  Just 
as  he  passed  inside  he  called  to  the  cabman  to 
stay  where  he  was  for  a  few  minutes.  The 
house  was  Dr.  Ramie's  office. 

Half  an  hour  passed.  Walton  came  to  the 
door  and  found  the  cabman  slapping  his  arms 
to  keep  himself  warm. 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  keep  you  waiting  so 
long,"  Walton  said,  "but  the  doctor  is  not  in 
yet.  They  expect  him  every  minute."  Then  he 
went  down  a  few  steps,  and  looked  up  and  down 
the  street,  as  if  expecting  to  see  the  doctor  com- 
ing along. 

He  went  into  the  house  again.  Another  half 
'hour  passed,  but  the  doctor  did  not  arrive. 

The  second  time  Walton  appeared  at  the 
door  he  again  apologized  for  the  delay  and 
asked  the  driver  if  he  were  not  getting  cold. 

"You're  right  it's  cold  it  is,  sir,  and  seeming 
like  snow  the  night." 


80  Cab  No.  44 

"Won't  your  horse  stand  a  minute  while  you 
come  in  and  get  a  snifter  to  keep  you  warm?" 

Cabby  evidently  needed  no  second  invitation. 
After  a  quick  hitch  at  the  horse's  blanket  and 
a  look  at  the  lamps,  he  was  up  the  steps  beside 
Mr.  James  Walton,  who  still  had  the  collar  of 
his  top  coat  turned  well  up,  and  who  stood  so 
that  the  driver  could  not  very  well  read  the  name 
at  the  side  of  the  door. 

The  two  men  passed  at  once  into  the  doc- 
tor's office  at  the  rear,  where  the  physician's  as- 
sistant was  arranging  some  books.  A  decanter 
and  glasses  were  already  on  the  table,  from 
which  cabby  inferred  that  his  fare  had  already 
fortified  himself  against  the  chilly  atmosphere. 

After  a  good  stiff  drink  cabby  was  persuaded 
to  take  a  cigar,  the  doctor's  assistant  holding 
the  match  for  him.  Then  another  drink  was  in 
order,  and  about  fifteen  minutes  had  passed  with- 
out seeming  to  be  more  than  five.  After  a  few 
minutes  more  he  proposed  that  they  should  take 
one  more  drink,  and  then  have  a  look  up  and 
down  the  street.  Cabby,  nothing  loath,  helped 
himself  to  a  good  four  fingers  of  whisky,  and 
then  the  two  men  went  to  the  door  together, 
opened  it,  and  stepped  out  into  the  night  air. 

The  cab  was  gone. 

After  the  first  exclamations  of  surprise  from 


Cab  No.  44  81 

Walton  and  appropriate  explosions  of  blas- 
phemy from  the  cabman,  the  two  men  walked 
to  the  corner  together,  on  the  chance  that  they 
might  find  some  one  who  had  seen  which  way 
the  cab  went.  At  that  hour,  and  on  such  a  cold 
night,  there  were  few  persons  about.  None  of 
them  had  noticed  any  cab. 

Retracing  their  steps,  they  went  to  the  other 
end  of  the  block  on  which  the  doctor's  office 
stood.  There  they  found  a  policeman,  who  said 
no  cab  had  passed  him;  but  he  had  only  just 
come  round  the  corner  himself. 

After  a  brief  consultation,  the  policeman  sug- 
gested that  the  cabman  should  go  into  the  saloon 
on  the  corner  below,  and  telephone  to  his  em- 
ployers at  the  stable,  as  the  horse  had  probably 
started  for  home.  While  both  men  were  sure 
the  horse  would  be  stopped,  they  agreed  that 
the  stable  should  be  notified.  Walton  then  said 
that  he  would  walk  back  to  the  doctor's  office 
and  wait  there ;  but  that  cabby  need  not  come  for 
him.  Pulling  out  a  five-dollar  bill,  he  handed  it 
to  the  cab-driver,  and  said  he  was  sorry,  but 
hoped  the  cab  would  be  found  all  right  again. 
Then  he  gave  the  police  officer  a  cigar,  and  after 
more  regrets  for  the  unfortunate  occurrence,  he 
turned  back  toward  the  doctor's  office  and  dis- 
appeared round  the  corner. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ABOUT  twelve  o'clock  that  night  May- 
nard  drove  up  to  the  Realton,  and  told 
his  cabman  to  wait  for  him  a  few 
minutes. 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  the  porter,  coming 
through  the  glass  door  into  the  cold  air.  He 
was  a  new  hand,  and  anxious  to  please.  "You 
don't  need  any  check,  sir.  The  cab  will  wait 
for  you  on  the  outside  line,  just  across  the  street, 
sir." 

Passing  the  office,  Maynard  stepped  up  to  the 
information  counter  and  asked  that  his  card  be 
sent  up  to  Mr.  James  Walton  immediately. 
The  boy  took  the  card  and  was  entering  the 
call  on  the  stub  when  Maynard  heard  some  one 
pronounce  his  name.  Turning  round,  he  found 
himself  facing  the  manager,  who  knew  him  as  a 
frequent  diner  at  the  hotel,  and  who  now  ex- 
tended his  hand.  The  manager's  greeting  was 
not  as  warm  as  usual,  Maynard  thought.  In 
fact,  he  looked  worried. 

"You  will  pardon  me,  Mr.  Maynard,  I  know; 
but  may  I  ask  you  to  step  into  my  office  a  mo- 
ment before  you  send  that  card  up?"  Then, 

82 


Cab  No.  44  83 

turning  to  the  boy,  the  manager  said  sharply: 
"Just  hold  that  call  for  a  few  minutes  until  this 
gentleman  is  ready."  At  the  same  time  he  took 
the  card  from  the  boy  and  motioned  to  May- 
nard  to  follow  him  into  his  private  office.  Once 
inside,  the  manager  closed  the  door  carefully, 
and  waved  his  hand  to  a  chair,  taking  one  him- 
self. 

"You  will  pardon  my  apparent  abruptness, 
Mr.  Maynard,"  he  said,  "but  I  know  I  can 
trust  you.  I  am  sure  I  can  also  depend  on  you 
to  tell  me  the  truth.  What  I  want  to  impress 
upon  you  is  that  I  am  disobeying  orders  in 
speaking  about  this  matter  at  all." 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,  what  are  you  talking 
about?  What  is  the  matter?" 

"The  matter  is  this  Mr.  James  Walton,  to 
whom  you  were  about  to  send  a  card.  I  had 
just  relieved  our  house  detective,  whom  I  set 
to  watch  every  one  that  called  on  this  Mr.  Wal- 
ton. And  here  you  are  the  very  first  person 
that  seems  to  know  him." 

"But,  my  dear  fellow " 

"I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Maynard,"  the  manager 
went  on,  "that  you  should  be  the  first  person 
we  could  lay  our  hands  upon  in  this  connection; 
but,  in  justice  to  yourself,  I  think  it  is  just  as 


84  Cab  No.  44 

well  to  clear  it  up  through  you  as  through  any 
one  else." 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,  I  don't  understand 
what  you  are  driving  at,  I  assure  you,"  pro- 
tested Maynard. 

"Well,  that  is  what  I  supposed.  In  fact,  I 
was  sure  your  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Walton 
must  be  either  trivial  or  accidental.  If  you  will 
allow  me,  I  will  explain  matters  as  briefly  as 
I  can.  If  you  can  enlighten  us  in  any  way,  I 
shall  be  very  glad ;  because  I  am  very  much  wor- 
ried about  the  matter.  Particularly  since  you 
seem  to  be  mixed  up  in  it." 

"Mixed  up !  But,  my  dear  fellow,  I  am  not 
mixed  up  in  anything.  What  on  earth  do  you 
mean?"  Mr.  Maynard  was  beginning  to  think 
that  the  little  joke  which  he  was  to  be  a  part 
of  that  night  had  somehow  leaked  out. 

"Well,  not  to  detain  you  longer  than  neces- 
sary, Mr.  Maynard,  this  is  the  state  of  the 
case.  A  Pinkerton  officer — at  least  I  suppose 
he  is  from  Pinkerton's,  they  mostly  are — fol- 
lowed this  Mr.  James  Walton  from  the  last 
hotel  at  which  he  stayed,  at  which,  it  appears, 
he  was  registered  as  Mr.  Milton  Fletcher." 
Maynard  winced,  and  wondered  how  the  police 
could  have  found  out  about  their  little  plot  so 
far  ahead  of  its  being  carried  out.  "I  suppose 


Cab  No.  44  85 

you  know,"  the  manager  went  on,  "that  we 
watch  everybody  about  a  hotel  like  this  pretty 
closely,  and  the  head  porter  has  a  specially  keen 
eye  for  baggage,  and  also  for  cabs."  Mr.  May- 
nard  gave  quite  a  start  at  this  last  statement; 
but  the  manager  did  not  seem  to  observe  it. 
"Now,"  the  hotel  man  continued,  "this  Milton 
Fletcher  came  from  another  hotel  to-  the  one 
which  he  left  to  come  here;  and  his  name  was 
neither  Fletcher  nor  Walton  at  the  first  one,  but 
Stewart." 

"You  astonish  me,"  gasped  Maynard,  now 
beginning  to  feel  a  little  nervous.  The  change 
of  name  from  Fletcher  to  Walton  he  under- 
stood; but  that  Fletcher  was  also  an  assumed 
name  came  in  the  nature  of  a  shock.  He  did 
not  quite  know  what  to  say,  or  what  it  was  that 
the  manager  expected  him  to  say.  "Did  he 
leave  those  hotels  without  paying  his  bills,  then, 
or  what  is  the  matter?"  Maynard  asked. 

"On  the  contrary,  he  is  most  prompt.  He 
owes  nothing  at  the  hotel  he  left,  and  I  have 
just  asked  at  the  cashier's  office  here,  and  find 
he  has  paid  up  his  bill  for  a  week  in  advance. 
There  is,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  a  little  circumstance 
in  connection  with  the  payment  which  we  shall 
come  to  presently. 


86  Cab  No.  44 

"Not  a  bad  check,  I  hope,  or  anything  of  that 
kind.  Because,  you  know,  I  would " 

"Oh,  no!  That  is,  not  exactly.  It  is  noth- 
ing that  you  could  set  right.  Have  a  little  pa- 
tience, and  let  me  tell  you  the  important  part 
of  the  story.  The  Pinkertons  seem  to  have 
had  instructions  simply  to  identify  their  man, 
and  to  establish  the  fact  that  he  is  the  same  man 
that  was  known  as  Fletcher  at  the  other  hotel. 
I  think  they  were  rather  astonished  themselves 
to  find  traces  further  back  still.  They  had  three 
men  here  to  walk  through  and  'mug'  Mr.  Wal- 
ton, as  they  call  it,  so  that  any  one  of  the  three 
would  know  him  again  anywhere.  We  usually 
extend  any  little  courtesy  to  the  Pinkertons, 
thinking  we  might  want  it  returned  some  day, 
so  Mr.  Jacobs,  our  house  detective,  gave  the 
other  officer  a  chance  to  look  into  Mr.  Walton's 
room,  without  making  any  attempt  to  search  it, 
you  understand,  but  just  to  see  what  baggage 
he  had,  and  if  there  were  any  initials  upon  it. 

"Now,  to  go  back  a  little,  I  want  to  call  your 
attention  to  something  that  was  in  the  papers 
a  few  weeks  ago,  but  which  may  have  escaped 
you.  In  fact,  I  didn't  remember  it  until  this 
Pinkerton  man  called  my  attention  to  it  this 
evening.  You  know  there  was  a  big  forgery  oi 


Cab  No.  44  87 

English  bank  notes,  supposed  to  be  the  work  of 
a  gang  headed  by  a  man  named  Ardmore." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  recollect  it  perfectly.  It  was  said 
the  gang  came  over  here,  I  believe,"  assented 
Maynard,  and  the  manager  continued: 

"From  what  this  Pinkerton  man  tells  me,  the 
members  of  the  gang  are  supposed  to  have  been 
a  little  too  quick  for  the  police  on  the  other  side 
and  to  have  landed  here  all  safe  and  separated. 
Now  he  is  very  anxious  that  I  should  not  breathe 
a  word  of  what  he  suspects  to  a  soul,  and  above 
all  not  to  our  own  man  Jacobs.  That  is  why 
I  am  disobeying  orders  in  telling  you ;  but  I  trust 
you  will  not  repeat  it."  Maynard  hastened  to 
assure  him  that  he  would  be  as  silent  as  the 
grave,  so  the  manager  went  on:  "This  Ard- 
more came  to  this  country  with  a  companion. 
They  occupied  the  same  room  on  the  steamer, 
at  least  that  is  what  the  police  have  dug  up  by 
following  a  baggage  clue.  The  London  police 
did  not  know  he  was  on  board  that  steamer  until 
she  had  docked  here,  it  seems,  although  they 
knew  that  Ardmore  at  least  would  try  to  get 
here. 

"Now,  it  is  a  curious  thing  that  neither  of 
the  two  men  that  were  in  that  stateroom  made 
any  attempt  to  clear  any  baggage.  The  cus- 
toms officers  cannot  find  any  declaration  of 


88;  Cab  No.  44 

theirs.  Yet  the  bedroom  steward  was  certain 
that  each  of  them  had  a  valise,  and  that  one  of 
these  bags  was  evidently  made  to  order.  As  I 
understand  this  Pinkerton  man,  it  was  peculiar 
enough  to  make  it  pretty  sure  that  there  was 
no  other  like  it.  The  London  police  sent  a  full 
description  of  it  here  by  wire,  so  that  Ardmore 
might  be  identified  by  it,  as  they  had  no  other 
clue." 

The  hotel  manager  paused,  and  looked  at 
Mr.  Maynard  with  his  eyes  half  shut.  Then 
he  continued  with  marked  deliberation  and 
emphasis: 

"Well,  Mr.  Maynard,  that  bag  is  in  Mr. 
James  Walton's  room." 

"Great  heavens !  But  you  must  be  mistaken ! 
Why,  Fletcher  is  the  dearest  chap!  You  must 
be  mistaken!" 

"Possibly.  But  you  will  pardon  me  for  hav- 
ing brought  you  in  here  to  ask  you  just  one 
question.  How  long  have  you  known  Mr.  Wal- 
ton, or  Mr.  Fletcher,  or  Stewart,  or  whatever 
his  name  is,  and  who  introduced  him?" 

"Why,  I  met  him  at  the  club.  Let  me  see." 
As  his  memory  ran  back  rapidly  over  the  past 
week  or  two,  Maynard  felt  dazed.  Could  it 
be  possible?  Who  was  it  that  had  brought 
Fletcher  to  the  club  in  the  first  place  ?  He  could 


Cab  No.  44  89 

not  remember  anything  clearly  for  a  minute. 
The  manager's  statements  had  quite  unnerved 
him.  All  he  could  think  of  to  say  was,  "So  you 
think  that  Fletcher  is  this  forger  Ardmore?" 

"Not  Ardmore  himself,  but  one  of  the  gang. 
He  does  not  answer  the  description  of  Ardmore, 
but  he  fits  the  steward's  description  of  the  man 
in  the  cabin  with  Ardmore  absolutely.  The 
Pinkerton  man  had  it  all  pat.  The  bag  seems 
to  me  conclusive.  This  detective  is  very  anxious 
that  I  should  not  tell  Jacobs  or  the  regular 
police  of  his  suspicions,  as  he  says  that  would 
spoil  it  all.  It  appears  that  they  never  arrest 
counterfeiters.  All  they  do  is  to  shadow  them 
in  order  to  find  out  whom  they  connect  with. 
That  is  why  I  want  to  impress  on  you  not  to 
mention  the  matter  to  any  one  until  they  have 
ferreted  out  the  whole  gang.  Then,  it  ap- 
pears, they  will  pinch  the  lot.  If  they  thought  I 
had  said  a  word  to  you,  and  they  found  out 
that  you  were  a  friend  of  Walton's,  they  would 
blame  me  for  spoiling  the  work  of  weeks." 
"Then  you  are  not  going  to  arrest  Fletcher?" 
"You  will  pardon  me,  Mr.  Maynard;  but  I 
see  you  are  more  accustomed  to  calling  him 
Fletcher  than  Walton.  Of  course  if  you  knew 
him  at  the  other  hotel,  it  was  as  Fletcher.  I 
suppose  you  do  not  care  to  say  why  he  called 


90  Cab  No.  44 

himself  Walton  when  he  came  to  this  house, 
or  Stewart  at  another  house,  and  why  you  sent 
your  card  to  Mr.  Walton?" 

This  question  brought  Maynard  back  to  a 
vivid  recollection  of  the  business  upon  which 
he  and  Fletcher  were  engaged  that  evening,  and 
which  he  now  saw  was  apparently  completely 
knocked  on  the  head.  He  stammered  something 
about  Fletcher's  having  asked  him  to  call  him 
Walton  just  for  a  few  days,  and  supposed  it 
was  a  practical  joke  of  some  kind.  He  tried  to 
force  a  laugh,  but  in  reality  he  felt  very  uncom- 
fortable. Finally,  in  order  to  escape,  if  possible, 
having  to  answer  that  awkward  question  about 
where  he  had  met  Fletcher,  he  blurted  out: 
"So  you  are  not  going  to  arrest  him?" 
"Not  until  they  have  traced  all  his  connec- 
tions. They  hope  to  be  able  to  locate  the  whole 
gang,  and  perhaps  the  plates.  When  the 
steamer  gets  back  they  will  have  that  steward 
up  here  to  identify  him  on  the  quiet,  I  believe. 
But  the  great  thing  is  to  trace  up  his  pals,  and 
here  the  very  first  person  we  run  across  is  you ! 
I  am  very  glad  it  was  I  and  not  Jacobs  that  saw 
you  hand  in  that  card;  because  while  Jacobs  does 
not  know  what  we  suspect,  he  knows  Mr.  Wal- 
ton is  watched,  and  he  is  sharp  enough  to  know 
that  he  is  a  crook  of  some  kind.  He  would 


Cab  No.  44  91 

have  been  watching  you  next.  If  you  have  no 
objection,  Mr.  Maynard,  I  think  it  would  re- 
lieve matters  a  good  deal  if  you  would  tell  me 
how  long  you  have  known  this  fellow  and  who 
introduced  you.  But  if  you  have  any  objection 
to  stating  the  facts,  of  course  I  will  not  press 
the  matter.  You  spoke  of  a  practical  joke  of 
some  kind.  I  would  advise  you  to  cut  it  out, 
Mr.  Maynard,  and  at  the  same  time,  I  trust  you 
will  pardon  me  for  trespassing  upon  your  time." 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  would  rather  not 
answer  that  question  until  I  have  a  talk  to  my 
lawyer  about  it,"  was  all  Maynard  could  say. 
"What  do  you  want  me  to  do  now?" 

"Oh,  nothing!  In  fact,  I  am  almost  sorry 
that  I  spoke  to  you  about  the  matter  at  all;  but 
I  should  be  very  sorry  to  see  one  of  my  patrons 
caught  in  the  police  net  with  such  a  dangerous 
person  as  one  of  the  Ardmore  gang.  I  am 
certain,  Mr.  Maynard,  that  unless  you  are  very 
sure  of  the  grounds  of  your  acquaintance,  you 
have  been  grossly  deceived  in  continuing  it,  even 
if  you  did  meet  him  at  a  club." 

"But  Fletcher  is  the  dearest  chap,  I  tell  you. 
I  can't  think  of  the  slightest  thing  wrong  about 
him.  He  seems  to  be,  in  every  respect,  a  gentle- 
man and  such  a  charming  fellow,  don't  you 
know.  You  certainly  must  be  mistaken." 


92  Cab  No.  44 

"Oh,  he  is  a  charming  fellow,  no  doubt.  In 
fact,  that  is  one  of  the  things  that  confirms  our 
belief  that  he  is  one  of  the  gang.  It  appears 
that  one  of  them  makes  a  specialty  of  getting 
letters  to  some  nice  girl — forged  letters,  of 
course — and  then  making  hot  love  to  her  and, 
if  possible,  inducing  her  to  run  away  with  him. 
Once  she  finds  herself  in  a  foreign  country,  de- 
pendent on  him  for  money,  he  supplies  her  with 
these  forged  bank  notes,  and  she  passes  them 
off  with  great  success,  because  she  never  dreams 
that  they  are  not  genuine.  He  takes  the  change, 
and  the  gang  gets  it." 

"But  surely  you  don't  mean  to  say  that 
Fletcher  has  been  doing  anything  of  that  kind 
here?  Why,  he  has  never  even  mentioned  the 
name  of  a  woman  to  me." 

"Indeed  I"  The  manager  shook  his  head  and 
smiled.  "I  don't  like  to  undeceive  you,  Mr. 
Maynard;  but  your  friend  Mr.  Walton,  or 
Fletcher,  or  Stewart,  or  whatever  his  name  is, 
was  followed  yesterday,  and  was  seen  to  con- 
nect with  a  very  stunning-looking  girl,  whose 
name  and  address  the  Pinkerton  man  secured, 
and  who  will  be  carefully  watched  from  now  on. 
They  go  out  together  a  good  deal." 

"Why,  you  astonish  me !" 

"There  are  several  astonishing  things  in  this 


Cab  No.  44  93 

connection.  You  were  asking  me  about  his  pay- 
ing his  bills.  When  he  paid  his  bill  here  he 
gave  us  an  English  bank  note,  for  which  he  re- 
ceived' considerable  change.  We  do  not  ask 
people  to  write  their  names  on  the  back  of  these 
notes  as  they  do  in  English  hotels ;  but  we  found 
three  such  notes  in  the  cash  drawer  that  eve- 
ning, two  of  them  from  the  restaurant.  We  can- 
not tell  which  one  he  gave  us,  but  on  submit- 
ting them  to  an  English  broker  that  rooms  here, 
we  found  one  of  them  was  a  forgery.  The 
broker  said,  the  moment  he  saw  it,  that  judging 
from  the  descriptions  it  looked  like  an  Ardmore 
note." 

"Great  heavens !  I  can't  believe  it !  you  know." 
"But  that  is  not  all,  Mr.  Maynard.  You 
must  remember  that  I  am  telling  you  all  this  in 
confidence.  I  promised  not  to  say  a  word.  The 
fact  is  that  this  friend  of  yours  is  evidently  an 
old  hand,  because  when  he  goes  out  in  the  eve- 
ning he  always  loses  his  shadow  when  he  wants 
to.  There  were  four  men  on  his  track  one  eve- 
ning, but  it  was  no  use.  He  is  very  active,  you 
know.  As  quick  as  a  cat.  He  goes  out  of  this 
hotel  at  one  door  and  comes  right  in  at  another. 
He  gets  on  a  car  going  one  way,  jumps  off  that 
and  boards  one  going  the  other  way  when  both 
cars  are  at  full  speed.  If  any  one  tried  to  fol- 


94  Cab  No.  44 

low  him  when  he  does  that  stunt  they  would 
either  break  their  necks  or  he  would  know  they 
were  following  him.  He  went  out  of  this  hotel 
to-night  about  ten  o'clock,  and  a  man  tried  to 
follow  him.  In  half  an  hour  the  man  was  back 
again,  having  given  it  up.  Jacobs  thinks  that 
Walton's  beard  and  mustache  are  false,  be- 
cause he  says  if  they  were  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  recognize  him  without  them,  there  being 
nothing  peculiar  about  his  features  that  a  detect- 
ive could  fix." 

"All  this  is  most  extraordinary,"  Maynard 
commented,  looking  worried.  "I  cannot  realize 
it,  you  know." 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  trespassed  on  your  time 
too  long  now,  Mr.  Maynard,"  said  the  manager, 
bowing.  "I  see  clearly,  although  I  trust  you 
will  pardon  me  for  saying  it,  that  this  is  not  an 
old  or  tried  acquaintance  of  yours  by  any  means. 
Let  me  warn  you  to  be  very  careful.  Shall  I 
send  your  card  up  now?" 

"Not  yet.  I  will  think  over  what  you  have 
said  first."  The  manager  bowed  again,  handed 
him  the  card,  opened  the  door  and  walked  away, 
leaving  Maynard  standing  there,  completely 
nonplussed. 

Instead  of  sending  up  his  card,  Maynard 
thought  he  would  take  a  short  stroll  outside 


Cab  No.  44  95 

to  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air  and  to  recover  his 
self-possession.  The  night  had  grown  warmer 
instead  of  colder,  and  he  took  off  his  hat  to 
cool  his  throbbing  forehead.  He  was  pacing  up 
and  down  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  the  hotel, 
with  no  idea  of  what  to  do  next,  when  he  sud- 
denly recollected  his  cab.  He  went  back  and 
asked  the  porter  where  it  was. 

"That's  it  over  there,  sir.  Third  from  the 
corner.  Got  number  forty-four  on  the  lamp.  I 
noticed  it  when  you  drove  up.  Have  it  here  in 
a  second,  sir." 

Maynard  explained  that  he  wished  only  to 
speak  to  the  driver  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
crossed  the  street  and  the  porter  saw  the  driver 
touch  his  hat  several  times  very  energetically. 
Whatever  they  said  was  in  tones  too  low  for 
any  one  else  to  hear,  except  the  cabman's  last 
words  as  Maynard  moved  away:  "You  can  de- 
pend on  me,  sir.  That  will  be  all  right,  sir. 
(You  can  depend  on  me." 

Walking  back  to  the  crossing,  Maynard  was 
about  to  return  to  the  hotel  when  he  came  face 
to  face  with  Milton  Fletcher. 

"I  waited  for  you  in  the  room  so  long  after 
the  time  that  I  was  afraid  something  had  hap- 
pened to  you,"  said  Fletcher,  "so  I  came  out 
to  have  a  look  round,  and  here  you  are.  It  is 


96  Cab  No.  44 

getting  late.  They  will  be  waiting  for  us,  you 
know.  Where  did  you  leave  your  cab?" 

Maynard  was  so  taken  aback  by  the  English- 
man's sudden  appearance  that  he  did  not  know 
what  to  say.  The  events  of  the  last  half  hour 
had  completely  upset  him.  He  did  not  want 
any  scene,  especially  on  the  street.  During  the 
time  he  had  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of 
the  hotel,  he  had  about  made  up  his  mind  to 
carry  out  the  part  he  had  agreed  to  play,  but 
not  until  he  had  from  Fletcher  some  sort  of  ex- 
planation as  to  who  he  was  and  what  his  busi- 
ness was.  He  could  ask  for  that  in  the  cab. 
If  the  explanation  was  not  satisfactory,  he  would 
drive  direct  to  Green's  and  explain  matters  to 
Douglas  and  Hartley.  He  felt  that  the  petty 
interests  of  the  police  in  hunting  for  a  forger 
were  small  considerations  beside  the  danger 
which  he  and  his  friends  were  running. 

Feeling  safe  with  the  cabman  on  the  box,  he 
put  the  best  face  he  could  on  the  matter  for  the 
moment,  and  asked  Fletcher  to  get  in  first. 
Turning  to  the  driver,  he  said  aloud:  "You 
know  where  to  go?"  to  which  the  cabman 
touched  his  hat  without  answering.  Maynard 
got  in,  still  rather  confused  as  to  how  he  should 
begin  his  demand  for  an  explanation,  and  the 
cab  drove  oft. 


CHAPTER  X 

IT  was  nearly  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  Fletcher  cautiously  opened  the  door 
of  the  private  dining-room  at  Green's 
and  walked  in.  Douglas  was  deep  in  the  attrac- 
tions of  a  Welsh  rarebit,  while  Hartley  was 
puffing  a  cigar.  The  doctor,  always  late,  had 
only  just  arrived. 

They  noticed  that  Fletcher  was  very  pale,  but 
otherwise  he  seemed  the  same  as  usual.  He 
would  not  sit  down,  but  simply  laid  a  red  pocket- 
book  on  the  table  in  front  of  the  doctor,  pulled 
out  his  watch  and  remarked  that,  according  to 
the  agreement,  they  were  to  remain  in  the  room 
until  twenty  minutes  after  he  had  left.  With  a 
nod  to  each  he  moved  toward  the  door,  still 
keeping  his  eye  on  the  three  men  at  the  table. 

In  another  moment  he  was  gone. 

Hartley  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"This  thing  still  seems  to  me  like  a  big  joke," 
he  began.  "But  I  suppose  that  pocket-book  is  a 
sign  that  the  alleged  robbery  has  been  committed 
and  that  the  hunt  is  on?" 

"That's  what  it  is,"  remarked  the  doctor 
dryly.  "And  I  am  going  to  have  a  Welsh  rare- 

97 


9$  Cab  No.  44 

bit  myself  now,  to  pass  the  time.  I  was  afraid 
I  was  too  late,  but  I  could  not  help  the  delay. 
Doctors  are  such  slaves.  I  suppose  there  is  no 
objection  to  calling  a  waiter,  if  we  don't  leave 
the  room  ourselves?" 

The  minutes  passed.  Douglas  was  lighting  a 
cigar,  when  he  suggested  that  the  doctor  should 
count  the  money  in  the  pocket-book  to  see  that 
everything  was  all  right  before  putting  it  back 
in  the  coat. 

"That's  so,"  exclaimed  Hartley,  with  a  start. 
"We  must  not  forget  any  of  these  details.  I 
suppose  we  should  all  go  to  see  the  pocket-book 
safely  deposited  in  Maynard's  old  coat.  Or  can 
we  trust  you,  doctor?"  and  he  laughed  as  if  it 
were  a  great  joke. 

As  he  had  just  finished  his  rarebit,  the  doc- 
tor picked  up  the  pocket-book  very  deliberately. 
There  was  a  little  red  stain  on  the  cloth  where 
it  had  lain.  The  same  stain  was  on  his  fingers, 
which  he  smelt  critically. 

"Fletcher  must  have  cut  his  finger  or  some- 
thing," he  remarked  very  coolly.  "Looks  like 
blood." 

Douglas  and  Hartley  both  seemed  discon- 
certed at  the  doctor's  words.  They  drew  the 
tablecloth  gingerly  toward  them  and  peered  at 


Cab  No.  44  99 

the  stain,  while  the  doctor  opened  the  pocket- 
book. 

"Not  a  cent  in  it,"  he  exclaimed.  Then  he 
peeped  into  each  compartment  again.  "Some 
mistake,  I  suppose.  But  I  thought  the  money 
was  to  be  left  in  the  pocket-book.  Perhaps  the 
fugitive  wants  something  for  traveling  ex- 
penses." 

Hartley  and  Douglas  looked  at  each  other, 
and  then  at  the  doctor.  He  tossed  the  pocket- 
book  over  to  them  for  examination. 

"Not  a  red !"  exclaimed  Hartley.  "I  thought 
he  was  to  put  five  thousand  in  it.  Don't  you 
think  we  had  better  go  after  him  and  have  some 
sort  of  an  explanation?" 

"Not  on  your  life,"  shouted  Douglas.  "A 
bargain's  a  bargain.  We  stay  here  for  twenty 
minutes.  We've  got  eight  more  yet.  If  one 
of  you  leaves  the  room  I  claim  the  stakes,  as 
you  don't  abide  by  the  conditions." 

"Which  way  would  you  go  to  look  for  him, 
I  should  like  to  know?"  asked  the  doctor,  smil- 
ing at  Douglas'  earnestness.  "Sit  still  and  let 
things  slide.  You  will  find  Maynard  will  be 
round  in  the  morning.  Probably  he  didn't  like 
to  risk  the  actual  cash,  in  case  Fletcher  was 
nabbed  before  he  got  away  from  the  hotel.  It 
would  look  all  the  better  to  find  he  had  left  the 


ioo  Cab  No.  44 

cash  at  home,  you  know.  If  he  saw  Fletcher 
was  caught,  he  could  say  nothing  about  a  pocket- 
book  and  mention  only  the  cash." 

In  spite  of  anything  the  doctor  could  say, 
Hartley  was  evidently  ill  at  ease;  but  he  sat 
there  until  the  twenty  minutes  had  expired.  His 
last  words  as  he  jumped  into  his  cab  to  be 
driven  home  were: 

"Saturday  night,  thirty  days  from  now, 
win  or  lose,  doctor.  Good-by." 


CHAPTER  XI 

ON  leaving  the  private  room  Fletcher 
went  down  to  the  basement.  Assuring 
himself  that  there  was  no  one  in  the 
wash-room  at  that  time  of  the  morning,  he 
walked  up  to  one  of  the  basins  and  filled  a  small 
cup  with  hot  water.  Taking  out  a  safety-razor 
set,  he  made  short  work  of  his  beard  and 
mustache. 

After  a  good  look  at  himself  in  the  mirror, 
he  seemed  to  be  satisfied  with  his  job  of  shav- 
ing, if  not  quite  with  his  altered  appearance. 
He  opened  the  door  and  glanced  up  the  stairs 
as  if  to  see  if  the  coast  was  clear,  and  seemed 
rather  annoyed  to  find  that  the  proprietor  was 
standing,  with  his  back  against  the  banister, 
talking  to  the  head  waiter. 

As  the  door  creaked  on  its  hinges  the  pro- 
prietor looked  down.  Apparently  realizing  that 
it  would  attract  too  much  attention  to  retreat, 
Fletcher  put  a  bold  face  on  it  and  ascended  the 
stairs.  When  he  reached  the  top  it  was  evi- 
dent that  the  proprietor  did  not  recognize  him, 
although  he  looked  at  him  curiously.  At  that 
late  hour  both  the  proprietor  and  the  head 


IO2  Cab  No.  44 

waiter  thought  that  they  knew  every  one  who 
was  on  the  premises. 

It  must  have  been  a  critical  moment  for 
Fletcher.  If  he  could  pass  the  proprietor  of  a 
restaurant  who  had  waited  on  him  more  than 
once,  had  asked  him  how  he  liked  American 
cooking,  and  whose  business  it  was  to  remember 
faces,  he  could  probably  pass  any  one.  But  there 
was  still  another  test  to  be  undergone — a  test 
which  has  placed  many  a  man  in  the  hands  of  the 
police.  He  would  be  obliged  to  say  something, 
and  there  is  nothing  so  difficult  to  disguise  as 
the  voice. 

He  must  have  done  some  remarkably  rapid 
thinking  during  the  few  moments  that  it  took 
to  mount  those  stairs,  with  the  eyes  of  the  head 
waiter  and  the  proprietor  upon  him  the  whole 
time,  both  of  them  evidently  waiting  for  the 
remark  which  would  explain  his  presence  there 
at  that  hour  in  the  morning.  Little  did  they 
dream  that  ten  thousand  dollars  probably  de- 
pended on  what  that  remark  should  be. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MR.  GEORGE  HARTLEY  was  late 
in  arriving  at  his  office  next  morn- 
ing. When  he  stepped  out  of  the 
elevator  he  found  a  man  pacing  up  and  down 
the  corridor  waiting  for  him. 

"Good-morning,  Johnson.  Been  waiting 
long?"  he  asked  hurriedly.  "Come  right  in." 

The  visitor  was  a  smooth-faced,  stockily  built 
man  who  wore  a  heavy  coat  tightly  buttoned 
up.  He  held  his  slouch  hat  in  both  hands,  and 
seemed  not  particularly  at  ease. 

"Well,  what  news?"  demanded  Hartley 
briefly  as  he  ran  his  hand  through  a  pile  of 
letters  that  had  been  placed  on  his  desk. 

"Your  man  never  come  to  no  Earlswood 
Hotel  last  night,  sir." 

Hartley  turned  round  in  his  chair  with  a 
start.  He  looked  incredulous. 

"No,  sir.  Never  showed  up  at  all.  I  had 
three  men  there;  two  of  them  on  the  entrances. 
One  was  in  the  corridor  upstairs.  Engaged  a 
room  for  him  day  before.  They  waited  till 
breakfast  time  this  morning,  sir,  but  there 
wasn't  nothing  doing."  After  a  pause,  seeing 
'03 


104  Cab  No.  44 

the  look  of  complete  dismay  on  Mr.  Hartley's 
face,  he  went  on:  "I  think  we  should  have 
shadowed  him  from  the  Realton,  sir.  Then 
we'd  knowed  what  hotel  he  did  go  to.  But  you 
know,  sir,  you  was  so  sure  about  his  going  to 
the  Earlswood  we  supposed  it  was  all  right 
to  wait  for  him  there.  We  went  on  watch  at 
ten  o'clock;  but  he  never  showed  up." 

"Are  you  sure  the  people  you  had  there  didn't 
fail  to  recognize  him?" 

"No  fear  of  that,  sir.  I  started  on  the  job 
right  after  you  gave  me  the  orders  on  Mon- 
day morning,  sir.  Three  of  us  had  walked 
through  the  room  where  he  was  sitting  at  the 
Realton,  sir,  and  had  a  good  look  at  him.  Not 
an  easy  man  to  make  a  mistake  about,  that,  sir. 
Fine-looking — almost  what  you  calls  handsome. 
I  went  up  to  the  Realton  the  day  he  moved  in, 
as  you  ordered,  sir,  and  saw  him  get  out  of  the 
cab.  Just  for  the  sake  of  curiosity,  and  having 
nothing  particular  to  do,  I  went  over  to  the 
hotel  he  come  from,  sir.  After  a  talk  to  the 
head  porter  there,  sir,  I  got  wise  to  it  that  he 
come  from  another  hotel  where  his  name  wasn't 
neither  Walton  nor  Fletcher,  sir." 

"What's  that?"  Hartley  almost  snapped. 
"Wait  a  minute,"  he  added,  stepping  to  the 
door  that  led  to  the  outer  office  and  opening  it. 


Cab  No.  44  105 

Addressing  some  one  there,  he  said  hurriedly: 
"I'm  not  in  to  any  one  at  present,  James.  Don't 
disturb  me  on  any  account.  You  understand?" 

He  came  back  to  his  desk,  and  after  turn- 
ing over  a  few  of  the  papers,  still  standing  up, 
he  beckoned  Johnson  to  come  into  the  inner 
room.  This  room  was  provided  with  double 
doors.  Through  one  of  them  anything  passing 
in  the  private  office  could  be  heard;  but  when 
both  were  shut  this  little  interior  den  was  ab- 
solutely sound-proof.  Hartley  had  found  it 
convenient  to  let  people  look  into  his  private 
office  occasionally  as  a  demonstration  of  the 
truth  of  the  clerk's  assertion  that  he  was  not  in, 
while  in  reality  he  was  in  this  sanctum,  the  door 
of  which  could  not  be  seen  through  the  door  of 
the  private  office,  as  it  was  in  the  same  wall. 

Both  men  sat  down.  Hartley  pulled  open  the 
drawer  of  a  desk  and  took  out  a  box  of  cigars, 
offering-  one  to  his  visitor  and  taking  one  him- 
self. 

"Let  me  get  this  straight,  now,"  he  said. 
"What  was  that  about  another  hotel  and  an- 
other name?" 

"Well,  sir,  you  know,  sir,  when  you  put  me 
on  the  job,  I  didn't  know  what  might  happen, 
so  I  thought  I  would  get  all  the  information 
I  could,  sir.  It  sometimes  comes  in  handy  when 


io6  Cab  No.  44 

you  lose  the  trail,  like  we  have  this  one.  Of 
course,  sir,"  twisting  his  hat  nervously,  and 
puffing  at  his  cigar,  "I  don't  want  to  meddle 
into  none  of  your  business,  sir;  but  it's  my 
opinion  that  your  man  is  one  of  the  Ardmore 
gang." 

"What's  that?  Nonsense!  Ridiculous! 

Why,  he  belongs  to  the •  But  that  doesn't 

matter.  Where  did  you  get  such  an  idea  as 
that?" 

"To  cut  it  short,  sir,  he's  got  Ardmore's  bag 
in  his  room  at  the  Realton." 

"Ardmore's  bag!     What  do  you  mean?" 

"General  orders  was  read  out  at  the  head 
office  some  weeks  ago  now,  sir,  to  keep  an  eye 
out  for  a  man  with  a  peculiar  kind  of  a  Glad- 
stone bag,  sir.  It  was  stolen  from  a  gent  in 
Sheffield,  and  if  Ardmore  got  to  this  country  he 
had  it  with  him.  The  bag  had  a  brass-lined 
slit  at  the  top,  with  a  leather  flap  over  it.  The 
gent  that  owned  it  had  that  put  in,  so  he  could 
slip  letters  in  without  unlocking  the  bag,  sir. 
Ardmore  most  likely  didn't  know  how  peculiar 
it  was,  sir,  or  he  wouldn't  have  carried  it.  The 
head  porter  at  the  Realton  let  me  take  a  peep 
at  Mr.  James  Walton's  room,  sir,  and  the  bag 
we're  all  looking  for  was  right  there  under  his 


Cab  No.  44  107 

dressing  table,  though  I  would  have  swore  it 
did  not  come  with  him  on  the  cab." 

"You  must  be  mistaken." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  sir.  Course  I  didn't  say 
nothing  to  the  porter;  but  I  took  the  manager 
one  side  and  asked  him  about  this  Mr.  Wal- 
ton. Knowing  he  could  be  trusted  to  keep  his 
mouth  shut,  I  told  him  what  was  up." 

"Why  didn't  you  arrest  him  at  once?" 

"We  never  do  that  with  counterfeiters,  sir. 
We  just  shadow  them  to  see  who  they  connect 
with.  After  a  bit  we  have  the  whole  gang 
spotted,  and  all  the  joints  they  visit  marked 
down.  But  I'm  coming  to  the  strangest  part 
about  your  man,  sir,  and  that's  this :  He's  never 
wrote  a  letter  and  never  got  a  letter  at  any  hotel 
he's  been  at.  No  telegrams;  nothing.  It's  very 
useful  to  have  a  sample  of  a  man's  writing,  sir, 
so  as  to  tell  his  letters  when  they  come.  I  can't 
find  that  this  one  ever  wrote  a  line  in  his  life. 
That  don't  seem  to  me  human,  that  don't,  sir." 

Mr.  Hartley  simply  drummed  on  the  desk 
and  pulled  harder  at  his  cigar. 

"The  only  connection  we  could  trace  him  to 
was  a  pretty  stunning-looking  girl.  Her  we 
marked  down,  and  it's  lucky  we  did,  sir,  because 
that's  our  chance  now  to  pick  up  the  trail  again. 
All  these  chaps  have  some  woman  on  the  string, 


Cab  No.  44 


and  no  matter  where  they  hide,  they  always  con- 
nect sooner  or  later  —  write  her  a  letter,  or  come 
to  see  her,  or  something.  Now  this  girl's  a 
stunner,  sir,  and  if  he  don't  write  her  a  letter, 
or  get  to  see  her  before  long,  he's  more'n 
human.  The  Ardmore  gang's  famous  for  get- 
ting fine-looking  women  in  tow  to  push  their 
goods.  We've  a  first-rate  man  on  our  list  that's 
just  for  these  jobs,  sir.  He's  expensive,  of 
course  ;  but  it  pays." 

"What  jobs  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  to  get  acquainted  with  the  girl,  sir. 
He's  a  handsome  fellow,  and  has  the  gift  of  the 
blarney  to  beat  the  band.  No  matter  how  swell 
she  may  be,  he  can  get  introduced,  and  after 
that,  trust  him.  He's  a  fine  dresser,  and  the 
girl  that  can  stand  him  off,  or  keep  a  secret  from 
him,  after  he  gets  his  arm  round  her  waist,  ain't 
born,  sir.  But  he's  expensive." 

"What  do  you  mean  to  do,  then?" 

"Well,  sir,  if  you  want  us  to  follow  this  thing 
up,  and  get  track  of  your  man  again,  it  will 
cost  about  two  hundred  to  get  Frank  Doremus 
started  on  the  job." 

"That's  your  handsome  man  with  the  blar- 
ney, eh?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Of  course  you  know  enough  about 
women  to  understand  that  a  man  has  to  flash 


Cab  No.  44  109 

the  wad  to  get  along  easy  with  them,  sir.  Your 
poor  chap  has  to  waste  too  much  time.  The 
man  with  the  dough  can  get  her  anything  or 
take  her  anywhere  she  wants  to  go.  Theaters 
and  things  like  that,  you  know." 

"Then  you  think  you  have  lost  track  of  him? 
Don't  you  think  you  could  pick  him  up  again 
in  some  other  way  than  through  this  girl?" 

"He's  an  old  hand,  sir.  He  can  lose  a 
shadow  better  than  any  man  I  ever  followed. 
Why,  he  went  in  the  Waldorf  one  evening, 
Thirty-third  Street  corner;  took  the  elevator  to 
the  ninth  floor;  walked  across  to  the  other  side 
in  the  Astoria ;  took  the  elevator  up  to  the  tenth 
and  then  walked  down  to  the  seventh.  I  seen 
him  just  in  time  to  dodge.  Course  if  he  met 
me  again  he  would  have  knowed  the  job  I  was 
on,  and  I  might  as  well  go  home  and  take  off 
my  clothes.  You  can't  shadow  a  man  like  that, 
sir.  All  that  Ardmore  gang's  clever." 

Hartley  did  not  appear  to  be  paying  much 
attention  to  this  last  piece  of  description.  He 
was  pacing  up  and  down  the  little  sanctum, 
puffing  at  his  cigar. 

"But  wasn't  there  any  row  at  the  Earlswood 
last  night?  Did  nothing  happen?" 

"Nothing  out  of  the  ordinary,  sir.  What 
was  you  expecting  to  happen?"  Mr.  Johnson 


no  Cab  No.  44 

asked  this  question  with  evident  curiosity,  and 
awaited  the  answer  with  his  ears  wide  open. 

"Oh,  nothing!"  flicking  the  ashes  from  his 
cigar.  "But  it  is  certainly  extraordinary.  Do 
you  think  you  could  pick  up  the  trail  if  you  knew 
any  place  he  was  at  late  last  night?" 

Mr.  Hartley's  thoughts  were  running  on  the 
empty  pocket-book  now.  He  was  debating  with 
himself  whether  it  would  be  safe  to  tell  Mr. 
Johnson  that  Mr.  Milton  Fletcher  had  been  at 
Green's  restaurant  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. Upon  further  deliberation,  he  concluded 
it  was  not. 

Then  it  occurred  to  him  to  call  up  Dr.  Ramie 
and  ask  him  if  he  had  seen  Maynard  that  morn- 
ing, and,  if  so,  whether  the  five  thousand  dol- 
lars was  all  right.  He  went  into  the  outer  office 
and  had  a  talk  with  the  doctor  over  the  tele- 
phone. The  doctor  had  not  tried  to  find  May- 
nard yet.  Did  not  expect  to  until  dinner  time. 

Hartley  went  over  and  spoke  to  the  cashier. 
Going  back  into  the  private  office,  he  handed 
Johnson  two  hundred  dollars  in  bills,  and  told 
him  to  go  ahead  with  the  Doremus  end  of  it, 
but  on  no  account  to  mention  his  employer's 
connection  with  the  matter  to  any  one  outside. 

"No  matter  what  they  find  out  about  this 
Fletcher^  or  whoever  he  turns  out  to  be;  not  a 


Cab  No.  44  in 

word  about  my  having  anything  to  do  with  him, 
remember,"  Hartley  repeated  with  emphasis. 

"You  can  trust  me  for  that,  sir,"  said  John- 
son, drawing  himself  up,  and  stuffing  the  bills 
into  his  pocket. 

"Here's  a  fifty  for  yourself,"  Hartley  added. 
"Keep  me  posted;  but  not  a  word  about  any- 
thing to  any  one.  I'll  pay  all  the  costs,  but 
keep  it  quiet.  That  man  must  be  found,  if 
money  will  do  it.  I  should  think  if  he  was  one 
of  the  Ardmore  gang  the  whole  police  force 
would  be  after  him." 

"They  don't  know  it,  sir.  If  there's  anything 
in  the  job  of  pinching  him,  I  want  it  for  my- 
self. I'm  the  only  one  that  seen  that  bag,  sir. 
That  is,  to  recognize  it." 

"Where  is  it  now?" 

"I'm  going  up  to  the  Realton  to  find  out, 
sir.  Course  I  expected  to  see  it  come  round 
to  the  Earlswood  last  night." 

"Would  it  help  matters  any — I  mean,  would 
it  save  any  time  in  locating  him,  if  the  police 
were  informed  about  that  bag?  Perhaps  the 
Pinkertons  would  like  to  know  it." 

Johnson  did  not  seem  to  like  the  suggestion, 
but  he  pulled  himself  together  after  a  moment 
and  answered  slowly:  "I  don't  think  so,  sir. 
The  Pinkertons  ain't  no  good  for  jobs  like  this, 


H2i  Cab  No.  44 

sir,  they  not  having  seen  him,  like  I  have.  I 
think  you'd  better  trust  me  and  Doremus  to 
work  the  girl,  sir.  In  a  week  that  chap  will 
get  word  to  her  somehow.  If  he  don't,  as  I 
said  before,  sir,  he  ain't  human.  Good-day,  sir." 


AFTER  attending  to  the  signature  of  a 
few  letters,  Hartley  felt  that  it  was 
time  to  run  over  to  the  Downtown 
Club  for  luncheon.     While  there  he  took  oc- 
casion to  ask  one  of  his  friends,  Judge  Windom, 
whom  he  knew  to  be  familiar  with  such  matters, 
how  a  person  could  get  a  few  minutes*  chat 
with  a  central  office  detective. 

"You  know,"  he  added  hastily,  seeing  the 
curious  look  on  his  friend's  face,  "we  have 
missed  some  important  papers  from  the  office 
lately,  and  I  thought  if  I  could  just  have  a  little 
advice  from  one  of  those  fellows,  on  the  quiet, 
you  understand — not  a  word  about  this  to  any 
one,  if  you  please — why,  it  might  be  useful." 

"Nothing  simpler,  my  dear  fellow.  I'll  just 
call  up  a  friend  of  mine  at  Mulberry  Street  and 
tell  him  you  would  like  to  see  an  officer.  Where 
shall  I  say?" 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  meet  him 
here.  Say  in  half  an  hour." 

The  judge  called  for  the  boy  to  bring  him 
the  telephone  book,  and  while  he  was  gone  for 
it  remarked  to  Hartley: 
113 


Cab  No.  44 


"You  are  right  to  call  on  the  regular  police 
in  all  these  things.  Some  people  don't  like  the 
idea  of  it,  and  go  to  private  detective  agencies. 
As  an  experienced  criminal  judge,  let  me  ad- 
vise you  never  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
private  detective  agencies.  Go  to  Mulberry 
Street  or  Pinkerton's.  There  are  so  many  skins 
and  blackmailers  among  these  little  fellows. 
They  watch  both  client  and  suspect,  and  which- 
ever has  the  most  money  they  skin.  Very  often 
they  skin  them  both." 

This  little  piece  of  gratuitous  advice  made 
Hartley  wince.  While  the  judge  was  gone  to 
the  telephone,  he  wondered  what  had  prompted 
the  giving  of  it.  Johnson  was  a  private  detect- 
ive! 

A  few  minutes  passed,  and  the  judge  returned. 

"Very  sorry,  old  man,"  he  said,  "but  it  ap- 
pears the  whole  force  is  out  on  a  murder  case, 
trying  to  find  who  drove  a  certain  cab  last  night. 
It  seems  they  found  a  bloody  cab  at  daylight 
this  morning,  somewhere  on  the  river  front. 
Very  interesting  case,  they  tell  me,  and  it's  all 
in  the  afternoon  papers.  Here,  boy,  get  us  two 
of  the  latest  afternoon  editions  you  can  find. 
Any  of  the  picture  papers  will  do." 

The  two  men  sat  down  to  enjoy  their  cigars, 
and  five  minutes  later  both  were  looking  at  a 


Cab  No.  44  115 

picture  of  a  cab,  with  the  door  open,  the  cushions 
lying  on  the  ground  beside  it,  and  a  mob  of 
curious  people  standing  round,  just  far  enough 
from  the  vehicle  to  give  the  photographer  room. 

It  appeared  that  the  cab,  with  the  horse  still 
in  the  shafts,  had  been  found  at  the  end  of  a 
lonely  dock,  close  to  the  river's  edge,  at  day- 
light. There  was  no  driver  with  it,  and  noth- 
ing in  the  cab  itself;  but  the  cushions  were 
slashed  here  and  there,  and  the  whole  cab  was 
soaked  with  blood,  some  of  which  had  run  out 
from  under  the  door  and  frozen  on  the  step  and 
on  the  ground. 

The  curious  thing  about  the  cab  was  that  on 
the  lamp  was  "No.  44";  but  that  when  the 
police  went  to  look  up  that  number  and  find 
the  owner,  they  discovered  that  cab  No.  44  had 
left  the  stable  that  morning  at  eight  o'clock  and 
was  on  the  rank  at  the  Central  Station,  with  its 
proper  driver. 

Judging  from  the  traces  of  frozen  blood  that 
led  to  the  edge  of  the  dock,  whatever  had  been 
in  the  cab  had  been  thrown  into  the  water,  and 
they  were  then  at  work  dredging  the  river.  As 
no  one  knew  what  time  the  tragedy  had  oc- 
curred, it  was  difficult  to  say  whether  the  tide 
had  been  running  up  stream  or  down  at  the 


u6  Cab  No.  44 

time  the  body,  if  there  were  a  body,  had  been 
thrown  in. 

Having  read  over  the  account  and  glanced  at 
some  other  items  in  the  paper  which  interested 
him  more,  Hartley  went  back  to  his  office,  leav- 
ing the  judge  still  poring  over  the  minutest  de- 
tails of  the  cab  mystery.  At  parting,  the  judge 
promised  that  one  of  the  central  office  men 
should  call  on  Hartley  next  day  or  the  day  after. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THAT  evening,  after   having  dined  at 
home,   Hartley  drove  down  to  the 
club,    where  he  hoped  to  find  Dr. 
Ramie    or    Maynard.     Neither  of  them  was 
there,  and  when  he  called  up  the  doctor  at  his 
office,  he  found  that  the  doctor  had  been  out  all 
afternoon  and  was  not  expected  to  return  until 
late. 

Several  of  the  men  at  the  club  were  talking 
about  the  murder  in  the  cab.  The  latest  news 
was  that  the  result  of  dragging  the  river  was 
the  finding  of  a  man's  leg.  The  dredgers  had 
also  fished  up  a  demijohn,  which  was  full  of 
reddish  colored  water.  The  police  thought  it 
might  have  been  used  in  an  attempt  to  catch  the 
blood  coming  from  the  cab,  or  in  carrying  water 
to  the  cab  in  an  attempt  to  wash  it  off.  Their 
theory  was  that  the  cab  had  been  abandoned 
because  of  the  tell-tale  frozen  blood  on  the  door 
and  the  step. 

A  rather  puzzling  thing  about  the  case  was. 
that  the  police  had  taken  the  cab  to  the  stable 
in  order  to  see  how  it  was  that  the  owner  came 
to  have  two  cabs  bearing  the  same  number,  only 

117 


n8  Cab  No.  44 

one  of  which  was  registered.  The  two  cabs  had 
stood  there  together  for  several  hours ;  they  had 
been  gazed  at  by  hundreds  of  persons,  and  had 
been  photographed  by  dozens  of  newspaper  men 
before  any  one  had  noticed  anything  peculiar 
about  the  numbers  on  the  lamps. 

A  sign-painter,  happening  to  stop  in  front  of 
the  stable  out  of  curiosity,  pointed  out  that  while 
one  cab  had  the  numerals  "44"  on  the  lamp,  the 
other  was  marked  "No."  44.  This  led  the  few 
drivers  and  stablemen  who  were  standing  around 
to  compare  notes,  and  to  concur  in  the  opinion 
that  no  cab  ever  had  the  lettering  "No."  in 
front  of  its  number.  After  getting  closer  to  the 
cab,  the  crowd  having  made  way  for  him  as  if 
he  were  an  authority,  the  sign-painter  remarked 
that  the  lettering  was  never  done  by  a  man  who 
had  learned  the  trade;  because  both  the  down- 
strokes  of  the  "N"  were  heavy,  instead  of  being 
light,  while  the  diagonal  stroke  was  light  in- 
stead of  being  heavy.  The  crowd  did  not  attach 
much  importance  to  this  criticism;  several  men 
thought  the  lettering  was  all  right,  and  they  did 
not  hesitate  to  say  so. 

This  made  the  painter  angry,  and  he  went 
close  up  to  the  lamp.  A  glance  told  him  that 
the  right  number  of  the  cab  was  1 144,  and  that 
the  ii  had  been  turned  into  an  N  and  a  small 


Cab  No.  44  119 


"o"  had  been  put  between  the  1 1  and  the  44. 
He  said  the  alteration  was  never  done  by  a  sign- 
painter,  nor  with  paint;  but  with  some  sort  of 
liquid  glue,  mixed  with  ink.  Upon  hearing  this 
opinion,  the  policeman  in  charge  took  it  upon 
himself  to  remove  both  lamps,  after  getting  the 
sign-painter's  name  and  address,  and  getting 
three  stablemen  to  witness  that  the  lamps  with 
the  altered  numbers  came  from  the  bloody  cab. 

With  this  information  at  hand,  the  police 
had  lost  no  time  in  finding  the  owner  of  the 
cab  registered  as  No.  1144.  The  owner  of  the 
vehicle  said  the  cab  had  left  the  stable  the  eve- 
ning before,  and  the  driver  had  telephoned  that, 
while  he  went  into  a  house  for  a  minute  with 
a  fare,  the  horse  had  run  away.  Where  the 
telephone  message  came  from  they  did  not 
know,  and  the  driver  had  not  returned.  The 
police  lost  no  time  in  going  to  the  cabby's  home; 
but  he  had  not  been  seen  since  the  night  before. 

Hartley  passed  half  an  hour  reading  over  the 
details  and  looking  at  the  pictures  of  the  dock, 
and  the  dredges,  and  the  stable,  and  the  house 
where  the  cabman  lived.  Then  he  began  to  feel 
restless,  and,  as  there  was  no  sign  of  the  doc- 
tor or  Maynard,  he  drove  to  the  theater  and 
saw  the  last  acts  of  the  latest  play.  Then  he 
went  home. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  next  morning  Hartley  was  at  his 
office  at  ten  o'clock  sharp.  On  his 
way  downtown  he  had  looked  over 
the  morning  papers  with  a  sort  of  idle  curiosity, 
and  had  seen  that  the  latest  development  in  the 
cab  murder  case  was  the  finding  of  some  other 
part  of  the  body;  this  time  an  arm  and  hand, 
with  the  same  evidence  of  rough-and-ready  sur- 
gery in  the  separation. 

The  theory  of  the  police  was  that  the  driver 
of  the  cab  was  an  accomplice,  and  that  the  story 
of  the  horse's  running  away  was  a  lie,  pure  and 
simple.  All  their  efforts  had  been  directed  to 
tracing  this  driver,  and,  strange  to  say,  they 
found  him  in  their  own  custody,  safely  locked 
up  in  a  police  station. 

It  appeared  that  this  driver  of  cab  No.  1144 
had  been  thrown  out  of  a  saloon  about  two 
o'clock  on  the  night  of  the  murder,  dead  drunk, 
and  had  been  taken  to  the  nearest  station-house. 
It  was  not  until  he  had  slept  off  the  effects  of 
his  spree  that  he  was  able  to  tell  about  the  loss 
of  his  cab.  Instead  of  being  allowed  to  go  free, 
as  he  had  expected,  he  was  astonished  to  hear 

120 


Cab  No.  44  121 

the  magistrate  commit  him  to  prison  as  a  ma- 
terial witness,  if  not  something  more  closely 
connected  with  the  murder. 

To  an  experienced  criminologist,  the  cabman's 
innocence  would  have  been  evident  from  his 
manner,  and  from  the  straightforward  way  in 
which  he  told  his  story.  All  he  knew,  he  said, 
was  that  when  the  cab  had  disappeared  he  had 
gone  to  the  saloon  to  telephone.  As  it  was  a 
cold  night,  and  his  fare  had  given  him  five  dol- 
lars, he  had  proceeded  to  get  warm  by  imbib- 
ing hot  whiskies.  In  his  opinion,  the  drinks 
that  he  had  taken  earlier  in  the  evening  were 
stronger  than  he  imagined.  There  was  no  other 
way  to  account  for  his  being  knocked  out  so 
quickly.  He  depended  on  the  saloon-keeper  to 
prove  an  alibi,  so  far  as  his  possible  presence  at 
the  dock  was  concerned.  Fortunately  for  him, 
having  been  gathered  up  from  the  sidewalk  by 
the  police,  he  was  able  to  trace  the  saloon  in 
which  he  had  passed  the  time.  Where  the 
house  to  which  he  had  taken  his  fare  was 
located  he  could  not  remember.  It  was  either 
a  block  above  or  below  the  saloon,  and  to  the 
right  or  left.  He  had  no  idea  of  the  number. 
The  police  attached  no  importance  to  that,  ap- 
parently. All  they  cared  for  was  to  satisfy 
themselves  that  this  man  had  not  driven  the  cab 


122  Cab  No.  44 

to  the  dock  where  it  was  found.  The  riddle 
for  them  to  solve  was:  Who  had? 

Having  read  all  about  the  case,  Hartley 
stuffed  the  newspaper  into  his  pocket.  After 
he  had  looked  over  his  morning  mail,  he  rang 
the  bell  and  told  the  boy  to  send  in  Mr.  James 
McBride. 

McBride  was  a  tall,  handsome  young  fellow, 
with  blond  curly  hair.  He  had  a  decidedly 
good  face  and  a  certain  look  about  him  that 
suggested  cleanness,  both  in  body  and  mind. 
His  clear  blue  eyes  and  red  cheeks  told  of  a 
healthy  outdoor  life.  McBride  was  Hartley's 
confidential  secretary,  and  had  better  prospects 
than  any  man  in  the  office.  His  appearance  and 
his  abilities,  Hartley  had  remarked,  would  make 
his  fortune  if  he  would  only  attend  a  little  more 
strictly  to  business;  but  the  young  man  was  a 
little  too  fond  of  athletics.  Hartley,  however, 
always  expressed  the  hope  that  his  secretary 
would  "steady  down"  in  time. 

"As  long  as  he  doesn't  get  to  be  a  champion," 
Hartley  had  remarked  to  a  friend,  "he  is  all 
right.  But  the  moment  these  athletic  fellows  get 
to  be  champions  and  the  girls  begin  running 
after  them,  they're  no  good  for  business.  I  gave 
the  trainer  a  fifty  to  keep  McBride  from  ever 
being  good  enough  to  enter  for  the  champion- 


Cab  No.  44  123 

ships,  and  just  to  make  things  sure,  I  always 
have  some  little  matter  to  attend  to  in  Denver 
or  St.  Paul  the  day  the  championships  come  off." 

Even  without  being  a  champion,  James 
McBride  had  more  than  his  share  of  attention 
from  the  girls,  but  this  did  not  alarm  Hartley 
so  much.  "As  soon  as  Miss  Right  comes 
along,"  he  used  to  say,  "James  will  be  a  red- 
hot  lover,  and  I  don't  think  the  engagement  will 
be  a  long  one.  The  sooner  the  better  for  me; 
because  once  a  man's  married  you've  got  him. 
Married  men  are  not  so  quick  at  giving  up  their 
jobs  as  single  ones,  and  they  don't  care  much 
about  championships." 

After  his  usual  good-morning  greetings 
McBride  took  his  instructions  carefully,  and 
went  over  briefly  some  matters  that  required 
Hartley's  personal  attention;  all  in  a  very  busi- 
nesslike way,  which  evidently  pleased  Hartley 
so  much  that  he  said  he  was  sorry  James  did 
not  smoke,  or  he  would  offer  him  one  of  his 
fifty-cent  cigars.  McBride  thought  smoking  in- 
terfered with  his  wind,  and  he  considered  his 
ability  to  do  a  quarter  in  fifty-four  seconds  much 
more  important  than  the  enjoyment  of  a  cigar. 
It  was  the  wind  that  Hartley  was  anxious  to 
break  up. 

About  ten  minutes  after  the  morning's  confer- 


124  Cab  No.  44 

ence  was  finished  and  McBride  had  returned  to 
the  outer  office,  he  tapped  at  the  door,  and  put 
his  head  in  with  a  smile. 

"Mr.  Douglas  just  called  up  on  the  telephone, 
sir,  to  know  if  you  were  in.  Says  he'll  be  right 
down";  and  the  smile  broadened,  as  if  the  news 
were  a  good  joke. 

"You  don't  mean  Frank  Douglas?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  still  smiling. 

"What  the  dickens  is  he  coming  here  for?" 

"I  thought  it  rather  curious  myself,  sir.  He 
hasn't  been  in  this  office  since  that  little  stock 
transfer  about  two  years  ago.  What  shall  I  say 
when  he  comes?  That  you  will  see  him?" 

"Oh,  yes.     I  suppose  I'll  have  to  see  him." 

Hartley  had  not  long  to  wait.  That  Frank 
Douglas  was  very  much  excited  was  evident. 
He  strode  into  the  private  office  without  even 
saying  good-morning.  Once  inside,  he  shut  the 
door  behind  him  very  carefully,  and  looked  as 
if  he  wished  to  lock  it.  Then  he  took  rapid 
steps  to  Mr.  Hartley's  desk,  and  fumbled  in  his 
pocket.  He  did  not  even  take  off  his  hat. 

Pulling  out  a  newspaper,  and  thrusting  it 
under  Hartley's  nose,  he  jabbed  a  big  headline 
excitedly  with  his  forefinger. 

"Read  that,"  he  gasped  under  his  breath. 
"By  gad!  this  is  a  pretty  kettle  of  fishl" 


Cab  No.  44  125 

Hartley  was  quite  taken  aback  by  his  visitor's 
manner.  Was  there  a  big  bank  failure,  or  what 
had  happened? 

"Sit  down,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said  reassur- 
ingly. "You  seem  to  be  all  worked  up  about 
something.  What's  the  matter?" 

"Matter?  Read  that,"  was  all  Douglas  could 
say,  jabbing  his  finger  into  the  paper  again. 

Hartley  glanced  at  the  paper  and  found  that 
the  part  indicated  was  under  the  double  head- 
lines of  the  cab-murder  case.  He  glanced  down 
the  column  carelessly. 

"Well,  my  dear  fellow,  I  don't  see  anything 
in  this  that  interests  me  particularly.  I  read  it 
all  in  the  morning  paper." 

"That  wasn't  in  the  morning  paper,"  gasped 
Douglas,  pointing  a  shaking  finger  at  one  of  the 
pictures. 

"I  see  they  found  an  arm  and  a  hand,  with  a 
ring  on  one  finger,  I  read  that  before.  What's 
the  matter  with  you,  Douglas?" 

"Yes !  A  ring  1  Look  at  it !  There's  a  pic- 
ture of  the  ring.  Can't  you  see  it?" 

"Why,  of  course  I  see  it.  What  of  it?  Say, 
what's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"Don't  you  see  the  picture  of  that  ring? 
Don't  you  see  the  star-shaped  business,  and  the 


126  Cab  No.  44 

snake's  head  at  one  side  and  the  fish  at  the 
other?  Don't  you  see  it's  Maynard's  ring?" 

For  a  moment  Hartley  felt  a  cold  chill  rim 
down  his  back.  Douglas  took  off  his  hat  and 
wiped  his  forehead.  In  doing  it  he  knocked  off 
his  glasses  and  broke  them.  He  picked  up  the 
pieces  with  unprintable  comments.  Hartley 
looked  up  from  the  paper. 

"I  confess  I  did  not  recognize  it  as  Maynard's 
ring.  Didn't  know  he  wore  a  ring."  Then  after 
a  pause,  looking  furtively  at  Douglas:  "But  you 
don't  mean  to  say  that  you  think " 

"Course  I  mean  it.  That's  why  there  was  no 
money  in  that  pocket-book.  That's  why  there 
was  blood  on  it.  That  fellow  Fletcher  not  only 
robbed  him;  he  killed  him.  And  threw  him  in 
the  river.  That's  what  1" 

"Oh,  nonsense !  You  are  crazy.  What — 

Fletcher?  Impossible!  And  yet "  The 

truth  of  what  Johnson  had  told  him  burst  upon 
him  like  a  flash;  but  he  tried  to  keep  up  his  ap- 
pearance of  incredulity.  "What  makes  you 
think  it's  Maynard's  ring?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  didn't  he  show  it  to  us  at  Green's  that 
night?  Didn't  he  explain  the  design  to  us?" 

"Don't  remember.  I  think  you're  a  little  off 
this  morning,  Douglas." 

"No!     That's  so!     You  hadn't  come  yet. 


Cab  No.  44  127 

You  didn't  notice  it.  It  was  just  after  dinner.  I 
think  I  was  the  one  that  asked  about  it.  He 
took  it  off  and  handed  it  to  us  to  look  at.  The 
marks  on  it  had  some  Dutch  name.  The 
moment  I  saw  it  in  the  paper  I  recognized  it." 
He  stood  up  and  wiped  his  forehead  again. 
"What  I  want  to  know  now  is:  Who  is  that 
fellow  Fletcher,  and  where  is  he?" 

"I  thought  you  were  the  one  that  was  betting 
they  couldn't  find  him,"  remarked  Hartley 
dryly,  thinking  hard  at  the  same  time. 

"Oh,  that's  all  rot  and  nonsense  now.  We've 
got  to  find  him  and  shut  his  mouth  somehow. 
When  he's  caught,  the  whole  story  will  come 
out,  and  we'll  all  go  to  Sing  Sing  for  putting  up 
the  job  with  him.  That's  what.  Even  if  we 
got  off,  how  the  boys  would  guy  us  for  picking 
up  a  crook  like  that  and  taking  him  to  dinner!" 

Hartley  turned  a  shade  paler  at  the  mention 
of  Sing  Sing.  He  had  not  thought  of  that 
before. 

"I'm  going  right  to  my  lawyer,  Groscup,"  con- 
tinued Douglas,  wiping  his  face  again,  "and 
I'm  going  to  tell  him  the  whole  thing.  And 
then,  if  they  don't  pinch  me  before  two  o'clock, 
I'm  off  to  Europe  by  the  first  steamer.  She  sails 
at  two." 

"But  if  you  make   any  such  extraordinary 


12$  Cab  No.  44 

move  as  that  you  will  attract  attention  and  sus- 
picion to  yourself  at  once,"  observed  Hartley, 
who  was  nevertheless  very  much  in  the  humor 
to  cut  and  run  for  it  himself. 

"I'm  going  to  get  Groscup's  advice  upon  it. 
What  I  want  to  know  is:  Who  is  this  fellow 
Fletcher?  How  did  you  meet  him?  I  don't 
know  where  to  go  to  ask  about  him." 

"Take  my  advice,  and  don't  ask  any  one.  If 
you  do,  they  will  lock  you  up  as  a  witness." 

"But  there  must  be  something  wrong  some- 
where. How  did  you  come  to  know  him?" 

"I  never  saw  him  before  the  dinner  that 
night  at  Green's.  He  was  Dr.  Ramie's  guest, 
and  an  old  friend  of  Maynard's,  I  understood. 
I  don't  know  any  more  about  him  than  you  do." 

"But  aren't  you  going  to  find  out?" 

"On  the  contrary,  I  think  it  is  best  for  us  to 
keep  cool,  and  say  'nothing  to  nobody  about 
nothing.'  That's  Chuck  Conners'  advice  for  all 
such  cases." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  get  legal  advice  upon  it. 
If  I  don't  call  you  up  after  two  o'clock  this 
afternoon,  you  will  know  that  I'm  off  to  Europe 
until  this  thing  blows  over." 

"I  wouldn't  do  it,"  advised  Hartley,  who  did 
not  like  the  idea  of  being  left  alone  to  face  the 
trouble  should  it  come.  "Fancy  being  a  week 


Cab  No.  44  129 

without  any  kind  of  news,  looking  forward  to 
being  nabbed  the  moment  you  landed  on  the 
other  side,  and  hauled  off  to  an  English  prison 
to  await  extradition.  Take  my  advice  and  stay 
here.  There's  some  mistake  about  something. 
If  what  you  think  is  so  one  thing  is  clear  to  me," 
he  added,  with  an  attempt  at  a  laugh:  "you  will 
lose  your  little  bet,  all  right.  The  police  will 
have  that  fellow  inside  twenty-four  hours,  if  the 
ring  belonged  to  Maynard." 

Douglas  could  only  spread  his  hands  and 
shrug  his  shoulders  as  he  left  the  room,  nodding 
a  hasty  good-by,  putting  the  pieces  of  his  glasses 
in  his  pocket. 

Left  to  himself,  Hartley's  coolness  disap- 
peared. In  a  disturbed  frame  of  mind  he  began 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  office.  Then  he  took 
out  a  fresh  cigar  and  set  himself  to  think  out  a 
course  of  conduct. 

What  had  happened  was  pretty  clear  to  him. 
Some  shrewd  member  of  the  Ardmore  gang  had 
picked  up  an  acquaintance  with  Maynard,  some- 
how, and  had  marked  him  for  a  plucking.  The 
little  after-dinner  bet  was  seized  upon  and 
cleverly  worked  up  as  an  opportunity.  The  man 
that  drove  the  cab  must  have  been  a  member  of 
the  gang,  and  the  two  of  them  had  found  that 
Maynard  resisted  when  they  would  not  go  to  the 


130  Cab  No.  44 

Earlswood  Hotel.  Then  they  had  knocked  him 
on  the  head.  If  the  story  ever  came  out,  Hart- 
ley, the  smart  business  man,  the  director  in  fifty 
companies,  the  president  of  the  Hardware 
Trust,  would  be  the  laughing-stock  of  the  town. 
Why  is  it  that  some  men  fear  ridicule  more  than 
imprisonment? 

To  one  thing  Hartley  quickly  made  up  his 
mind.  He  would  not  consult  any  lawyers,  and 
he  would  refuse  to  say  a  word  to  any  one  about 
either  Maynard  or  Fletcher.  He  would  deny 
that  he  had  ever  known  either  of  them.  He 
was  sorry  now  that  he  had  called  in  Johnson. 
But  perhaps  it  was  lucky  that  he  had  not  called 
in  the  Pinkertons.  They  would  haul  him  up  at 
once  when  they  found  the  clue.  So  would  the 
regular  police.  Still,  he  felt  uneasy  about  John- 
son. To  put  a  private  detective  on  the  track  of 
a  thief,  or  one  who  he  knew  would  turn  out 
to  be  a  thief,  was  one  thing.  To  have  set  a 
detective  to  watch  a  man  who,  it  now  turned  out, 
was  deliberately  planning  a  cold-blooded  mur- 
der, was  something  else.  The  nasty  part  of  it 
was  that  he,  Hartley,  would  appear  to  have 
known  the  very  hour,  almost,  that  the  crime  was 
to  be  committed. 

He  would  have  to  stop  Johnson's  activity 
somehow,  and  also  to  stop  the  detective's  mouth. 


Cab  No.  44  131 

It  would  cost  a  pretty  penny,  probably,  and 
would  perhaps  expose  him  to  blackmail  for  the 
rest  of  his  life.  But  he  could  not  help  that  now. 
He  was  in  a  hole,  and  he  knew  it.  He  would 
have  given  ten  thousand  dollars  twice  over  that 
minute  if  he  had  never  seen  Johnson. 

His  meditations  were  interrupted  by  McBride, 
who  put  his  head  in  the  door  again. 

"Man  to  see  you,  sin  Says  confidential  busi- 
ness. Sent  here  by  Judge  Windom." 

"I  don't  want  him  now.  Send  him  away. 
No !  Stop  a  minute.  Yes.  Send  him  in.  What 
am  I  talking  about?" 

The  man  entered,  closed  the  door  behind  him 
quietly  and  walked  up  to  Hartley,  mentioning 
his  name.  At  the  same  time  he  opened  his  coat, 
disclosing  a  detective's  shield.  Hartley  had 
never  seen  one  before,  and  did  not  know  it  from 
a  fire  badge;  but  the  connecting  circumstances 
told  him  what  it  was. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  he  began,  thinking  of  the 
best  way  to  get  rid  of  his  visitor  as  smoothly  as 
possible,  "but  we  found  it  was  all  a  mistake. 
Something  got  filed  away  wrong.  Important 
documents,  you  know.  Thought  some  one  had 
stolen  them.  Awfully  sorry  to  trouble  you." 
He  wished  the  man  would  not  look  at  him  so 
hard,  as  if  he  knew  he  was  lying.  Hartley 


132  Cab  No.  44 

wondered  how  he  would  feel  if  one  of  those 
keen-eyed  fellows  were  to  come  and  ask  him 
some  questions  about  Fletcher  and  Maynard. 

The  detective  turned  his  hat  round  in  his 
hands,  and  seemed  not  to  know  exactly  what  to 
say.  He  muttered  something  about  making  a 
report.  In  order  to  relieve  the  tension  of  the 
situation,  Mr.  Hartley  pulled  out  a  roll  of  bills 
and  offered  the  man  a  twenty,  telling  him  he  was 
sorry  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  report. 
Everything  was  all  right  now. 

In  another  minute  he  was  alone  again,  wish- 
ing that  Johnson  could  be  disposed  of  as  easily. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AFTER  pacing  up  and  down  his  office  for 
half  an  hour,  without  coming  to  any 
conclusion  about  anything  except  to 
keep  his  mouth  shut,  Hartley  suddenly  deter- 
mined to  send  for  his  carriage  and  drive  up  to 
Dr.  Ramie's.  If  Douglas  went  to  Europe,  he 
and  the  doctor  would  be  the  only  ones  left. 
They  should  have  an  understanding. 

The  doctor  took  Hartley  into  his  private 
room  and  locked  the  door.  Yes,  he  had  seen 
the  papers  and  had  recognized  the  ring.  He  did 
not  seem  as  much  excited  about  the  matter  as 
Hartley  had  expected,  but  'he  was  insistent  on 
the  importance  of  their  keeping  quiet. 

Dr.  Ramie  explained  that  he  had  never  seen 
Fletcher  before  that  dinner  at  Green's,  and 
that  he  knew  him  only  as  a  friend  of  Maynard. 
How  long  Maynard  had  known  him,  or  where 
he  had  met  him,  the  doctor  had  no  idea.  The 
whole  thing  looked  to  him  now,  he  said,  as  if 
Maynard  had  been  marked  for  a  victim  for  some 
time  past,  and  that  Fletcher  must  be  an  ad- 
venturer of  some  kind.  These  views  so  closely 
agreed  with  Hartley's  own  that  he  came  very 


134  Cab  No.  44 

near  making  the  mistake  of  telling  the  doctor 
that  he  was  quite  right.  Catching  himself  just 
in  time,  he  went  to  the  other  extreme,  and  tried 
to  put  the  doctor  off  the  track. 

"But  why  siiould  Fletcher  kill  Maynard  for 
the  money,  doctor,  when  he  was  to  get  it  anyway 
by  being  allowed  to  rob  him  of  it?" 

"That  is  what  is  puzzling  me,"  answered  the 
doctor  slowly.  "I  think  that  Fletcher  must  have 
refused  to  go  to  the  hotel,  or  something  must 
have  excited  Maynard's  suspicions  at  the  last 
moment.  These  fellows  often  get  too  eager 
when  the  game  is  near  an  end,  you  know,  and 
Maynard  may  have  become  alarmed.  He  may 
have  wanted  to  go  somewhere  else.  I  cannot 
see  how  they  got  into  the  same  cab  unless  that 
was  the  case.  I  thought  Fletcher  was  to  be  at 
the  hotel  beforehand,  so  as  to  be  ready  to  rob 
Maynard  as  soon  as  he  arrived.  They  probably 
had  words  in  the  cab,  and  Fletcher,  seeing  the 
game  was  up,  threw  off  all  disguise  and  grabbed 
Maynard  by  the  throat,  or  stabbed  him,  or 
something.  He  must  have  had  a  confederate  on 
the  box,  driving  the  cab,  unless  he  killed  the 
driver,  too." 

"But  what  would  excite  Maynard's  suspi- 
cions? You  don't  suppose  that  he  had  found  out 
Fletcher's  real  character,  do  you,  and  was  afraid 


Cab  No.  44 


to  carry  out  the  scheme  we  had  agreed  on?  I 
think  perhaps  that  is  why  the  pocket-book  was 
empty.  Maynard  may  not  have  liked  to  trust 
himself  with  so  much  money  in  the  company  of 
a  forger." 

"A  forger!     What  do  you  mean?" 

Mr.  Hartley  turned  very  pale.  He  saw  the 
slip  he  had  made.  "I  didn't  mean  a  forger.  I 
meant  an  amateur  thief,  you  understand.  I  was 
thinking  that  we  had  agreed  it  was  to  be  a 
forgery,  or  something  of  that  kind." 

The  doctor  evidently  did  not  understand.  He 
looked  at  his  visitor  so  critically  that  Hartley 
winced,  but  could  not  think  of  anything  further 
to  say.  It  flashed  across  Hartley's  mind  to  take 
the  doctor  into  his  confidence  as  to  his  dealings 
with  Johnson  ;  but  that  would  at  once  betray  the 
fact  that  he  had  acted  in  shockingly  bad  faith 
with  regard  to  the  wager. 

"Well,  doctor,"  he  said  at  length,  "what  are 
you  going  to  do  about  it?  It  seems  to  me  that 
we  are  all  in  a  nice  mess." 

"Do?"  said  the  doctor,  as  if  coming  out  of  a 
dream  about  something.  "Do  nothing.  Keep 
absolutely  quiet.  Ask  no  questions.  Make  no 
mention  of  either  Fletcher  or  Maynard  to  any 
one.  None  of  our  friends  knows  that  we  have 


136  Cab  No.  44 

ever  met  Fletcher.  You  met  him  as  my  guest 
only.  Ever  see  him  anywhere  else?" 

"No.  How  about  your  part  of  it?  If  the 
whole  thing  comes  out,  where  do  you  stand?" 

"I  am  not  worrying.  I  have  your  checks  in 
the  safe  there,  and  I  expect  to  collect  a  hundred 
from  you  on  the  side." 

"Oh,  you  do,  eh?    I  guess  not." 

"I  certainly  do.  Look  here,  Hartley.  You 
are  unnecessarily  excited  about  this  affair 
because  you  have  a  guilty  conscience.  That 
makes  you  forget  how  little  other  people  know. 
I  never  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  trouble  must 
find  you,  unless  you  go  hunting  for  it.  What 
is  it  that  you  are  so  alarmed  about?  They  have 
found  a  cab  and  parts  of  a  body.  The  body  has 
not  even  been  identified  yet " 

"Why,  that  ring  gives  the  whole  thing  away." 

"Did  you  recognize  it  the  moment  you  saw 
the  picture  of  it?" 

"Why,  no.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  didn't.  Doug- 
las told  me  it  was  Maynard's  ring." 

"Well,  Douglas  won't  tell  any  one  else.  He 
called  me  up  on  the  'phone  and  asked  me  if  I 
had  seen  the  picture  of  the  ring  in  the  papers. 
I  turned  the  conversation  at  once,  because  you 
never  know  who  is  listening  at  a  telephone.  I 


Cab  No.  44  137 

sent  him  a  note  immediately,  warning  him  to 
keep  his  mouth  shut." 

"He's  going  to  Europe  this  afternoon." 
"It  does  not  matter  where  he  goes.  We  are 
going  to  stay  here.  At  least  I  am.  We  must 
remember  that  the  police  have  not  yet  estab- 
lished the  fact  that  it  was  Maynard  that  was 
killed  in  that  cab.  They  are  also  a  very  long 
way  from  finding  out  who  it  was  that  was  in  the 
cab  with  him.  If  it  were  not  for  the  pocket-book 
I  should  be  willing  to  bet  that  Fletcher  did  not 
know  anything  about  the  cab.  I  have  read  the 
newspaper  accounts  very  carefully,  and  what  I, 
as  a  doctor,  cannot  for  the  life  of  me  under- 
stand is  Why  a  murderer  should  stop  to  cut  up 
a  body  in  a  cab,  with  the  thermometer  below 
freezing,  instead  of  throwing  the  whole  thing 
into  the  river.  To  hack  off  the  head  would  have 
destroyed  the  identity.  I  have  had  some  experi- 
ence in  amputations,  and  that  job  on  the  dock, 
if  it  was  done  on  the  dock,  must  have  taken  an 
hour.  Then  I  cannot  see  how  a  man  in  a  cab 
could  carry  out  such  a  piece  of  work  without 
the  knowledge  and  assistance  of  the  cabman. 
There  must  have  been  an  accomplice.  Then  an- 
other thing  is  that  Fletcher  would  surely  never 
have  been  so  foolish  as  to  return  to  Green's  to 


I3'8  Cab  No.  44 

deliver  an  empty  pocket-book  if  he  had  just  com- 
mitted a  murder." 

"But  there  was  blood  on  the  pocket-book 
when  you  got  it,  you  remember.  You  thought 
Fletcher  had  cut  his  finger." 

"Yes,  I  remember  that  very  well,  and  it  has 
worried  me  quite  a  bit.  Still,  I  cannot  think 
that  Fletcher,  knowing  even  as  little  of  the  man 
as  I  do,  could  be  guilty  of  such  a  crime.  Be- 
tween you  and  me,"  looking  at  his  visitor  sharply 
out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  "I  should  not  be  at 
all  surprised  if  it  turned  out  that  Maynard  had 
been  killed  by  some  one  else,  after  Fletcher  had 
left  him  at  the  Earlswood  Hotel." 

"But  they  never  went  to  the  hotel." 

"Indeed!  How  do  you  know  that?  That 
is  a  very  important  piece  of  evidence  if  you  can 
prove  it." 

This  time  Hartley  turned  scarlet.  "The  fact 
is,"  he  stammered,  thinking  hard  and  fast,  and 
getting  redder,  if  that  were  possible,  every 
second — "the  fact  is  I  was  a  little  worried  about 
that  pocket-book  being  empty,  and  as  I  couldn't 
get  Maynard  on  the  'phone  in  the  morning,  I 
went  up  to  the  Earlswood,  thinking  he  might 
still  be  there." 

"Indeed !"  drawled  the  doctor.  "And  where 
is  the  hotel?  I  never  heard  of  it  before." 


Cab  No.  44  139 

This  was  a  poser.  Hartley  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  where  the  hotel  was.  He  stam- 
mered something  about  having  driven  there  in  a 
cab  and  not  noticing  particularly,  and  so  forth, 
and  then,  beginning  to  feel  decidedly  uncomfort- 
able, he  concluded  to  take  his  leave. 

As  he  went  down  the  steps  he  congratulated 
himself  that  he  had  kept  his  secret  about  John- 
son. It  was  some  satisfaction  to  think  that  he 
had  found  out  all  that  the  doctor  knew  without 
telling  anything  himself.  It  might  have  hurt 
his  pride  somewhat  had  he  known  that  the 
doctor  also  had  his  little  secret.  There  was  one 
little  incident  which  the  doctor  had  not  men- 
tioned to  his  visitor,  probably  because  he  did  not 
think  it  necessary.  This  was  that  as  soon  as  the 
false  number  on  the  cab  was  discovered,  and  the 
owner  named,  the  doctor  went  round  to  see  the 
man.  Having  hired  cabs  from  that  stable  many 
times,  and  being  a  good  customer,  the  doctor 
felt  at  ease  in  taking  the  stable-owner  into  his 
confidence  and  telling  him  that  although  the 
cabman  was  unable  to  recollect  the  house  from 
which  the  cab  had  run  away  or  had  been  stolen, 
the  fact  was  that  cab  No.  1 144  had  disappeared 
from  in  front  of  his  own  office,  and  that  the  cab- 
man's fare,  who  had  given  the  driver  five 
dollars,  was  one  of  his  patients.' 


140  Cab  No.  44 

"Now,"  the  doctor  went  on,  "you  know  it 
might  hurt  my  practice  quite  a  little  if  this  were 
known,  and  I  don't  want  any  notoriety  of  that 
kind.  The  man  that  came  to  my  office  in  the 
cab  is  a  prominent  man;  one  of  my  best  patients. 
I  was  out  at  the  time.  He  went  with  the  driver 
to  look  for  the  cab  and  didn't  come  back.  I 
want  to  be  candid  with  you  and  tell  you  the 
whole  story.  It  appears  that  he  invited  the 
driver  inside,  and  they  had  several  drinks;  that 
is,  the  cabman  did.  While  they  were  inside  fill- 
ing up  with  whisky  the  cab-horse  ran  away,  or 
some  one  ran  off  with  it.  Now,  that  is  not  a  nice 
story  to  get  into  the  papers  about  my  office,  is 
it?  I  should  have  pictures  of  my  place  in  all  the 
papers,  and  a  mob  of  loafers  round  the  door. 
Why,  it  would  ruin  my  practice." 

The  stable-owner  shook  his  head,  as  if  he 
realized  that  it  was  a  bad  business.  The  doctor 
went  on: 

"Now  I  don't  want  your  driver  to  freshen  up 
his  memory  any  more  than  necessary,  and " 

"That'll  be  all  right,  sir,"  interrupted  the 
liveryman,  beginning  to  understand  what  was 
wanted  of  him. 

"What  I  am  coming  to  is  this,"  the  doctor 
continued*  "Your  cab  was  damaged  quite  a  bit, 
I  understand,  and  your  driver  was  locked  up, 


Cab  No.  44  141 

and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Now  let  me  pay  you 
fifty  toward  the  damage  to  the  cab,  and  if 
there  is  anything  left,  make  a  Christmas  present 
of  it  to  the  driver;  but  give  him  to  understand 
that  he  is  to  forget  where  he  went  that  night. 
Is  that  fair?" 

The  liveryman  insisted  that  it  was  not  the 
doctor's  fault  that  the  cab  was  "all  mussed  up," 
as  he  expressed  it;  but  he  did  not  like  to  refuse 
the  fifty,  and  he  promised  the  doctor  that  noth- 
ing should  be  said  about  where  the  cab  was  when 
the  horse  ran  away.  He  always  protected  his 
customers,  and  the  doctor  was  a  good  one. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AS  the  days  passed,  the  headlines  in  the 
daily    papers    referring    to    the    cab 
murder  became  smaller  and  smaller. 
All  attempts  to  find  any  further  portions  of  the 
body  had  failed,  and  no  one  had  recognized  the 
ring  as  Maynard's;  or  if  they  had,  they  had 
not  told  the  police. 

What  was  stranger  still,  according  to  the 
papers,  was  that  there  was  not  the  slightest  clue 
to  the  driver  of  the  cab.  That  any  man  should 
stop  a  runaway  horse  in  the  street,  or  should 
steal  a  horse  and  cab  and  drive  it  all  over  New 
York  without  leaving  a  trace,  was  something 
that  the  detectives  could  not  understand.  The 
murderer  might  be  a  shrewd  and  intelligent  man, 
they  said,  but  any  one  in  the  cab-driver  class 
should  be  easily  traced;  if  by  nothing  else, 
through  the  betrayal  of  his  confidence  by  his 
friends.  He  would  be  sure  to  talk  of  the  ex- 
ploit to  some  one  unless  he  were  an  accomplice 
himself. 

As  there  were  no  new  developments,  at  least 
none  that  were  given  out  to  the  press,  the  whole 
thing  seemed   to  be   passing   from   the  public 
142 


Cab  No.  44  143 

mind.  All  that  was  necessary  to  blot  it  out  en- 
tirely was  another  big  sensation.  On  the  fifth- 
day  that  sensation  came,  and  all  the  news  about 
cab  No.  44  was  tucked  away  in  the  inside  pages 
of  the  papers  without  even  a  subhead  over  it. 

Hartley  was  congratulating  himself  on  the 
success  of  his  policy  of  silence.  Nothing  had 
happened  to  disturb  his  peace  of  mind  so  far. 
The  only  thing  that  worried  him  was  the  non- 
appearance  of  Johnson.  He  had  not  seen  the 
detective  since  he  had  advanced  the  money  to 
engage  the  services  of  the  charming  Mr. 
Doremus.  Nothing  would  have  pleased  Hart- 
ley better  than  to  know  he  had  seen  the  last  of 
Johnson;  but  that  astute  individual  was  not  at 
all  anxious  to  lose  sight  of  Hartley. 

When  they  had  parted  at  their  last  interview 
Johnson  had  carried  out  his  avowed  intention  of 
going  back  to  the  Realton  to  see  what  had  be- 
come of  that  bag.  A  cigar  to  the  head  porter 
and  a  little  casual  talk  about  nothing  in  particu- 
lar led  to  the  proposition  to  have  another  look 
at  Mr.  James  Walton's  room.  That  was  on 
Friday  morning. 

The  room  was  empty. 

Johnson  was  worried.  The  porter  assured 
him  that  no  baggage  had  been  taken  from  that 
room  on  a  call  from  the  office,  but  he  suggested 


144  Cab  No.  44 

that  a  guest  might  take  hand-baggage  down  and 
put  it  in  the  checkroom.  A  careful  search  of 
the  checkroom  could  not  be  undertaken  until 
some  time  between  four  and  six  in  the  morning 
unless  Johnson  wanted  to  get  out  a  search-war- 
rant, but  for  a  slight  consideration  the  head 
porter  managed  things  so  that  the  detective  could 
look  over  the  bags  that  had  been  checked  since 
Wednesday. 

Neither  that  search  nor  the  one  that  took 
place  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  showed 
any  trace  of  the  bag.  Nevertheless,  it  was  there. 
In  devoting  his  attention  to  the  Ardmore  bag, 
Johnson  had  not  observed  another  very  ordinary 
bag  which  was  under  Walton's  bed  at  the  time 
of  the  detective's  first  visit  to  the  room.  The 
bag  that  was  under  the  bed  was  now  in  the 
checkroom,  and  the  Ardmore  bag  was  inside  it 
with  some  of  Mr.  James  Walton's  effects. 

Finding  himself  off  the  scent  of  the  bag  itself, 
Johnson  strolled  round  to  the  hotel  again  in 
the  afternoon  and  tried  to  gather  some  informa- 
tion as  to  the  movements  of  the  bag's  owner. 
No  one  had  seen  Mr.  Walton.  The  head  por- 
ter did  not  think  he  had  left  the  hotel,  as  guests 
always  gave  up  their  keys,  and  the  office  then 
gave  notice  to  the  maids  to  change  the  rooms. 

"Fact    is,"    the    porter    added,    "I've    been 


Cab  No.  44  145 

bothered  so  much  since  yesterday  about  that  cab 
that  I  haven't  had  time  to  think  about  much 
else." 

"What  cab  was  that?" 

"Why,  this  here  cab  No.  44.  It  was  around 
here  that  night,  and  the  gent  that  was  with  it 
must  have  been  the  guy  that  was  killed,  or  the 
one  that  did  it." 

"Couldn't  you  recognize  the  man?" 

"Yes,  I  guess  I  could,  although  it  was  pretty 
dark  and  I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  him. 
Being  new  here,  I  don't  know  the  customers  at 
this  hotel  yet,  you  know.  What  I'm  sorry  for 
was  that  I  didn't  notice  the  driver.  As  soon  as 
I  handed  it  out  that  No.  44  was  waiting  around 
here  that  night,  the  fly  cops  come  up  by  the 
dozen  and  pumped  me  dry,  and  all  the  reporters 
got  the  story  of  my  life  and  some  of  'em  took 
my  picture.  To-day  they  was  after  me  hot  and 
heavy,  and  seemed  more  anxious  to  know  if  the 
man  had  a  ring  on  his  finger  or  not.  I  didn't 
see  no  ring.  As  to  the  driver,  all  I  noticed  about 
him  was  that  he  was  most  too  polite  for  a  cabby. 
Touched  his  hat  a  bit  too  much.  English  style, 
you  know." 

''Wasn't  the  man  in  the  cab  a  guest  of  the 
hotel?  Didn't  he  dine  here  or  anything?" 

"Can't  say  as  to  that.    The  fly  cops  asked  me 


146  Cab  No.  44 

all  that.  He  went  into  the  hotel  and  was  inside 
half  an  hour,  I  suppose.  When  he  came  out  he 
went  over  to  have  a  talk  to  the  cabby.  That's 
when  I  remember  telling  him  his  cab  was  No. 
44.  That's  the  last  I  seen  of  him.  I  suppose 
the  guy  that  was  killed  was  inside  the  cab  all 
the  time,  already  cut  up,  maybe." 

Johnson  went  into  the  lounging  room  and  lit 
a  cigar.  After  picking  out  a  comfortable  chair 
he  sat  down  and  began  to  think,  turning  over  in 
his  mind  various  possibilities,  some  of  which 
were  very  improbable.  Among  these  was  the 
possibility  that  Mr.  Walton  might  have  been  the 
man  with  the  cab.  He  got  up  and  went  back  to 
the  head  porter,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  heard 
any  directions  given  to  the  driver  of  that  cab — 
to  go  to  the  Earlswood  Hotel,  for  instance.  No, 
he  had  not.  Did  he  think  it  at  all  possible  that 
Mr.  Walton  might  have  been  the  man  that  came 
in  the  cab?  No,  he  was  quite  sure  it  was  not. 
He  knew  Mr.  Walton  by  sight,  and  had  received 
a  very  liberal  tip  from  the  gentleman. 

Johnson  sat  down  again  and  did  more  think- 
ing. Then  he  questioned  several  of  the  clerks 
and  other  persons  who  were  on  watch  Thursday 
night,  to  see  if  any  of  them  could  recollect  a  man 
that  had  dropped  into  the  hotel  for  half  an 
hour  or  so.  It  would  seem  that  hundreds  of 


Cab  No.  44  147 

men  might  have  done  so  without  attracting  the 
slightest  attention. 

Finally  he  went  to  the  manager. 

After  considerable  sparring,  during  which 
Johnson  felt  that  something  was  being  held  back, 
he  gathered  that  a  gentleman  had  called  for  Mr. 
James  Walton  on  Thursday  night,  and  that  this 
gentleman  was  personally  known  to  the  man- 
ager, who  did  not  wish  to  disclose  his  identity. 
The  detective  was  sharp  enough  to  see  his  ad- 
vantage and  to  make  the  most  of  it,  so  that  the 
manager  finally  agreed,  on  the  understanding 
that  Johnson  would  consider  the  matter  as 
strictly  confidential,  to  send  him  up  to  have  a 
talk  with  Mr.  Maynard.  Johnson  could  then 
personally  confirm  some  of  the  things  that  the 
manager  had  taken  the  liberty  of  telling  Mr. 
Maynard  in  order  to  put  him  on  his  guard. 

Johnson  rejoiced  inwardly.  He  had  picked 
up  another  clue.  He  had  found  a  man  that  knew 
Mr.  Walton. 

So  the  reason  that  Hartley  had  not  seen  any- 
thing of  Johnson  for  nearly  a  week  was  that 
Johnson  was  hunting  high  and  low  for  Maynard 
and  had  put  a  relief  watch  on  his  apartment 
night  and  day. 

The  janitor  told  him  that  Mr.  Miaynard  had 
left  no  word  as  to  how  long  he  would  be  away. 


148  Cab  No.  44 

He  often  went  away  for  a  week  or  two  without 
saying  anything  about  it.  Being  a  bachelor, 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  explain  his 
movements  to  any  one. 

J 

While  engaged  in  his  search  for  Maynard, 
Johnson  had  looked  up  many  of  the  retired  bro- 
ker's old  business  haunts  and  had  made  minute 
inquiries  as  to  his  habits  and  his  connections. 
He  had  found  an  old  servant  that  had  often 
waited  on  him  at  table  and  had  overheard  many 
things,  but  nothing  that  would  throw  any  light 
on  his  probable  destination,  if  he  went  off  on  a 
trip  by  himself. 

During  the  vigils  of  these  two  or  three  days 
Johnson  had  done  a  great  deal  more  thinking 
and  had  constructed  and  rejected  a  number  of 
theories.  What  bothered  him  was  to  reconcile 
Mr.  Hartley's  knowledge  of  Mr.  James  Wal- 
ton's intended  movements  and  the  fact  that  the 
movements  had  not  taken  place.  That  Mr. 
Hartley  was  very  much  astonished  at  Mr.  Wal- 
ton's failure  to  arrive  at  the  Earlswood  Hotel 
was  clear.  That  he  did  not  know  what  had  pre- 
vented that  arrival  was  also  clear.  By  putting 
this  and  that  together,  Johnson  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  it  was  Mr.  Maynard  that  had  in- 
terfered with  or  prevented  Mr.  Walton's  arrival 
at  the  Earlswood  Hotel.  Consequently,  Mr, 


Cab  No.  44  149 

Maynard  probably  knew  the  direction  in  which 
Mr.  Walton  had  actually  gone.  What  he  would 
very  much  like  to  know  now  was,  whether  or  not 
Mr.  Hartley  was  acquainted  with  Mr.  Maynard 
as  well  as  with  Mr.  Walton.  If  so,  it  was  just 
possible  that  he  could  throw  some  light  on  the 
matter  if  he  knew  that  Mr.  Maynard  and  Mr. 
Walton  were  together  at  the  time  that  one  of 
them  should  have  gone  to  the  Earlswood  Hotel. 
The  idea  was  gradually  becoming  a  conviction 
in  Johnson's  own  mind  that  Mr.  Walton  and 
Mr.  Maynard  were  together  in  cab  No.  44  on 
Thursday  night. 

Johnson  had  carefully  noted  the  time  of  the 
cab's  arrival  at  the  hotel,  as  given  him  by  the 
head  porter.  He  found  that  it  agreed  exactly 
with  the  time  of  the  call  that  was  afterward 
canceled,  but  still  stood  on  the  stub,  for  Mr. 
James  Walton.  When  the  manager's  descrip- 
tion of  Mr.  Maynard  was  repeated  to  the  head 
porter,  without  giving  the  porter  the  slightest 
hint  that  it  was  the  manager's,  he  admitted  that 
it  was  pretty  close  to  the  appearance  of  the  man 
that  got  out  of  the  cab  when  it  arrived  at  the 
hotel  that  night. 

Having  fully  satisfied  himself  that  both  May- 
nard and  Walton  had  completely  disappeared  on 
the  same  night  and  at  about  the  same  time,  John- 


150  Cab  No.  44 

son  made  up  his  mind  to  put  his  theory  to  the 
test.  If  he  were  correct,  he  was  fairly  on  the 
way  to  make  a  name  for  himself  as  the  greatest 
detective  in  New  York.  If  he  were  wrong,  he 
had  nothing  to  lose. 

The  difficulty  would  be  to  get  the  truth  from 
Mr.  Hartley,  if  there  were  anything  of  impor- 
tance to  conceal.  He  realized  that.  Knowing 
the  psychological  value  of  complete  surprise,  he 
determined  that  he  would  not  approach  Mr. 
Hartley  with  any  roundabout  questions  as  to 
whether  he  was  acquainted  with  Mr.  Maynard 
or  not,  but  would  put  a  question  to  him  that 
would  be  answered  by  his  manner,  truthfully, 
completely,  and  at  once. 

Accordingly,  next  morning  Hartley  found 
the  detective  pacing  up  and  down  the  corridor 
waiting  for  him. 

"Hello,  Johnson!  Where  have  you  been  all 
this  time?  Come  right  in." 

They  went  in,  and  it  was  Johnson  that  sug- 
gested their  going  into  the  inner  and  most 
private  office.  Having  carefully  shut  all  the 
doors  behind  him  and  having  made  sure  that 
they  could  not  be  overheard,  he  sat  down,  laid 
his  slouch  hat  on  the  desk,  and  stroked  his  chin. 

Hartley  offered  him  a  cigar.  He  took  it  and 
struck  a  match.  After  a  few  puffs,  he  took  it 


Cab  No.  44  151 

from  his  mouth  and  looked  at  Jt  critically,  as 
if  to  see  if  it  was  well  alight.  Then  he  turned 
to  Hartley,  who  was  tilted  back  in  his  chair, 
evidently  nervous,  but  expecting  Johnson  to  open 
the  conversation. 

"Well,  Mr.  Hartley,"  the  detective  began, 
speaking  with  great  deliberation,  "I  have  located 
your  man.  At  least,  part  of  him." 

"The  dickens  you  have!"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Hartley. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  may  as  well  cut  it  short,  sir," 
flicking  the  fire  from  the  end  of  his  cigar  and 
looking  straight  at  Hartley.  "Your  friend,  Mr. 
James  Walton,  was  the  man  that  was  murdered 
in  that  cab  last  week,  and  the  man  that  killed 
him  was  Mr.  Maynard." 

In  spite  of  himself,  Mr.  Hartley  had  to  laugh. 

The  psychological  effect  of  the  sudden  and 
unexpected  connection  of  those  two  names  with 
the  murder  was  completely  overshadowed  by 
the  absurdity  of  the  supposition  that  Maynard 
was  the  murderer.  Hartley  had  the  presence  of 
mind  to  continue  the  laugh  until  he  had  time  to 
get  out  of  his  chair  and  turn  his  back  on  Johnson 
for  a  moment  or  two,  taking  a  few  steps  across 
the  room. 

In  those  few  steps  Hartley's  keen  intellect  had 
ample  time  to  see  the  trap  laid  for  him  by  the 


152  Cab  No.  44' 

mention  of  Maynard's  name.  While  he  could 
not  imagine  how  the  detective  had  hit  upon  the 
connection  between  the  two  men  and  had  almost 
guessed  a  riddle  which  the  whole  police  force  of 
New  York  had  been  unable  to  solve,  he  saw  that 
he  must  pretend  to  be  entirely  ignorant  of  any 
such  possible  connection  himself. 

"So  you  think  the  only  way  to  account  for  Mr. 
Walton's  disappearance  is  to  assume  that  he  was 
murdered,  eh?"  Then  he  laughed  again  and 
went  on  glibly:  "Well,  if  you  know  the  mur- 
derer— Mayville,  did  you  say? — all  you  have  to 
do  is  to  go  and  arrest  your  man  Mayville. 
Where  did  you  pick  him  up?" 

Johnson  realized  that  he  was  at  fault,  but  he 
had  another  shot  in  his  locker,  carefully  prepared 
in  advance.  He  changed  his  tone  to  one  of  al- 
most impudent  familiarity  and  raised  his  voice. 

"Well,  it's  pretty  clear  to  me,  Mr.  Hartley, 
that  you  know  more  about  Mr.  Walton's  move- 
ments that  Thursday  night  than  any  one  else 
does.  And  if  we  took  you  up  to  headquarters 
and  put  you  through  the  third  degree,  we'd  find 
out  something." 

Douglas'  example  of  going  to  Europe  and 
Judge  Windom's  advice  about  private  detectives 
were  about  equally  prominent  in  Hartley's 
mind  for  a  moment.  He  realized  instantly  that 


Cab  No.  44  153 

he  had  placed  himself  at  the  mercy  of  the  man 
before  him.  The  question  was  how  to  escape. 

Johnson's  tone  was  distinctly  defiant.  Prob- 
ably the  best  course  would  be  to  adopt  the  same 
attitude.  Hartley  sat  down  and  faced  him 
squarely. 

"See  here,  Johnson,  I  didn't  employ  you  to 
question  me  or  to  pry  into  my  affairs.  I  em- 
ployed you  to  watch  a  certain  man,  and  to  see 
where  he  went  to,  and  to  keep  me  posted  so  that 
we  could  lay  our  hands  on  him  should  the  neces- 
sity arise.  You  made  a  botch  of  it,  and  lost  him 
the  first  jump  he  made.  And  you  call  yourself 
a  first-class  detective,  and  run  an  agency !  Bah !" 

Johnson  squirmed.  This  did  not  promise 
very  well  for  the  realization  of  his  dream  of 
being  considered  the  greatest  detective  in  New 
York.  Hartley  went  on : 

"Now,  I  don't  know  anything  about  Mr. 
Walton,  who  he  is,  or  where  he  comes  from,  and 
my  reasons  for  wanting  to  keep  track  of  him  are 
my  business,  which  I  can  explain  to  the  satis- 
faction of  any  one,  headquarters  or  anywhere 
else,  if  necessary;  but  I  shall  not  do  so  to  you, 
sir,"  raising  his  voice  as  he  saw  his  advantage. 
"You  might  guess  my  reasons,  knowing  my 
financial  connections  and  Mr.  Walton's  voca- 
tion." This  was  a  chance  shot,  but  it  went 


154  Cab  No.  44 

home.  "When  we  suspect  a  man  is  likely  to 
pass  counterfeit  money  on  any  institution  with 
which  we  are  connected,  we  like  to  be  able  to  lay 
hands  on  him."  This  with  an  emphatic  nod. 
"Now,  if  you  have  any  absurd  theory  that  the 
man  I  employed  you  to  keep  track  of  has  been 
murdered  by  a  person  called  Mayville,  why,  go 
and  work  out  that  clue  yourself,  but  you  don't 
do  it  at  my  expense,  sir.  I  want  you  to  clearly 
understand  that.  Now,  how  much  do  I  owe 
you?  And  your  services  are  no  longer  re- 
quired." 

This  did  not  suit  Johnson  at  all.  He  saw  that 
he  was  choking  the  goose  that  laid  the  golden 
eggs.  That  would  never  do,  so  he  hastened 
to  make  all  manner  of  apologies.  Of  course  he 
was  "only  just  mentioning  it"  when  he  said 
that  about  headquarters,  and  hoped  Mr.  Hart- 
ley would  not  take  any  offense.  And.  Mr. 
Doremus  was  getting  along  so  nicely,  although 
he  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  getting  an  introduc- 
tion to  the  girl.  Some  girls  were  so  difficult  to 
approach,  and  hurry  would  be  fatal  to  success. 
But  Doremus  would  soon  know  all  about  Mr. 
iWalton  and  who  he  was  and  where  he  came 
from.  He  would  also  find  out  whether  he  was 
still  alive. 

At  the  mention  of  Doremus  and  the  possi- 


Cab  No.  44 


bility  of  unraveling  the  mystery  of  Walton's  an- 
tecedents, if  not  of  his  whereabouts,  Hartley's 
second  thoughts  were  that  it  might  be  better  to 
continue  on  good  terms  with  Johnson  for  the 
present.  If  he  turned  him  loose,  he  might  go 
to  the  police  with  his  theory,  and  they  might 
investigate.  Hartley  felt  that  he  could  not  brow- 
beat them.  When  he  proposed  to  Johnson  to 
go  on  with  the  case,  he  stipulated  and  insisted  on 
the  condition  that  there  should  not  be  the  slight- 
est communication  with  the  police  about  any- 
thing while  Johnson  was  in  Hartley's  pay. 

"If  you  have  any  murder  clues  to  work  out, 
do  it  when  I  am  done  with  you,"  was  his  parting 
injunction.  "Or  at  least  do  it  on  your  own  hook. 
Don't  help  the  police  on  their  job.  They  won't 
give  you  any  credit  for  it.  Call  on  me  for  all 
the  money  you  want  for  yourself  and  Doremus. 
You  will  never  get  as  much  by  blabbing  to  the 
police  about  your  suspicions  as  you  will  be  at- 
tending strictly  to  your  own  business  and  making 
your  reports  to  me." 

The  mere  mention  of  being  allowed  all  the 
money  he  wanted  for  expenses  settled  in  John- 
son's mind  any  doubts  that  he  might  have  had 
as  to  his  future  course.  The  prospective  fame 
would  keep.  He  could  work  on  his  theory  of 


156  Cab  No.  44 

the  murder  while  he  was  trying  to  locate  some 
of  Walton's  friends.  Perhaps  he  was  mistaken 
after  all ;  but  he  was  getting  paid  now,  whether 
he  was  right  or  wrong. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IN  spite  of  his  apparent  confidence  that  he 
had  "fixed"  Johnson,  as  he  expressed  it, 
Hartley    felt   uneasy.     If   Johnson    had 
been  able  to  work  out  a  clue  that  was  so  near 
the  truth,  some  other  person  might  do  so.     Per- 
haps other  detectives  were  already  on  that  trail, 
and  were  about  to  spring  a  surprise  upon  him; 
perhaps  to  arrest  him.     Somehow  or  other,  that 
was  his  great  dread — arrest,  followed  by  ridi- 
cule.    Of  the  two,  he  feared  most  the  laugh. 

He  was  in  this  frame  of  mind  as  he  sat  down 
to  lunch  at  the  club,  when  he  happened  to  see 
Mr.  Groscup,  Frank  Douglas'  lawyer,  enter 
the  room.  Beckoning  him  to  the  table  he  asked 
the  attorney  to  join  him,  and  was  glad  to  find 
that  Groscup  had  no  other  engagement.  Hart- 
ley had  got  to  the  point  where  he  felt  that  he 
needed  legal  advice,  and  he  thought  it  better  to 
trust  a  man  that  already  knew  the  case  than  to 
make  a  fres'h  confidant.  As  a  preliminary, 
Hartley  broached  the  subject  of  Douglas'  ab- 
sence and  the  reason  for  it,  and  said  that  he 
would  like  to  retain  Mr.  Groscup  as  his  coun- 
sel also. 

157 


15$  Cab  No.  44 

"If  we  are  going  to  get  into  a  mess  over  this 
piece  of  foolishness,"  he  said,  "we  may  as  well 
have  you  engaged  for  the  defense." 

The  lawyer  assured  him  that  there  was  no 
immediate  danger,  but  he  enlarged  upon  the  im- 
portance of  Mr.  Hartley's  not  betraying  him- 
self. "Nothing  is  so  difficult,"  he  explained, 
"as  for  a  person  with  a  guilty  knowledge  of 
anything  to  conceal  the  fact  that  he  knows  the 
true  state  of  the  case,  when  he  is  talking  about 
the  matter  to  another  person  who  has  a  wrong 
idea  of  it.  In  spite  of  himself,  he  will  make 
slips;  or  what  is  just  as  bad,  he  will  hesitate; 
showing  that  he  is  thinking  of  some  way  to 
frame  an  answer  to  a  question  which  an  inno- 
cent person  would  reply  to  immediately," 

He  went  on  to  say  that  it  would  be  neces- 
sary for  Mr.  Hartley  to  be  very  careful  of  his 
conversation  with  any  but  his  most  intimate 
friends.  "You  never  know  who  is  a  detective 
these  days,"  he  continued,  "or  who  is  ready  to 
rush  off  and  give  hints  of  things  that  have  been 
told  them  in  strict  confidence.  Then,  the  first 
thing  you  know,  the  police  get  hold  of  the  story, 
and  there  you  are." 

Hartley  explained  the  difficulty  of  avoiding 
people,  his  business  bringing  him  in  contact 
with  so  many.  He  did  not  like  the  idea  of  run- 


Cab  No.  44  159 

ning  away  from  the  city,  as  Douglas  had  done. 
In  his  own  home,  with  his  family,  he  was  safe, 
and  he  could  not  be  stopped  and  questioned  in 
his  private  carriage.  He  seldom  or  never  rode 
in  the  cars.  The  trouble  would  be  to  avoid  the 
people  that  came  to  the  office.  They  would 
come  to  see  him  without  his  having  the  slightest 
idea  of  what  they  wanted,  and  many  persons 
whom  he  had  never  seen  sent  in  their  cards. 

"Then  don't  see  any  strangers,"  was  the 
lawyer's  advice.  "There  must  be  some  way  of 
finding  out  whether  the  people  that  want  to  see 
you  are  known  to  you  or  not  or  what  their 
business  is.  Some  of  our  trust  magnates  have 
eluded  the  most  skilful  process-servers  for 
months." 

"The  trouble  is,  they  come  there  and  find  me 
in,  or  they  have  seen  me  go  into  the  office;  and 
then  it's  no  use  telling  them  I  am  not  in.  If 
they  are  told  I  am  engaged,  they  will  wait  for 
hours  sometimes.  I  have  found  them  in  the 
corridor  long  after  the  office  has  been  closed. 
You  have  no  idea  how  men  with  money  are 
hounded." 

"Why  not  have  some  one  in  your  office  repre- 
sent you?  Have  you  no  one  in  the  office  you 
could  trust  to  pretend  he  was  Mr.  Hartley? 
People  who  did  not  know  you  would  not  detect 


160  Cab  No.  44 

the  difference.  Get  some  one  about  your  own 
age.  The  chief  thing  to  avoid  is  visits  from 
people  that  may  have  suspicions  and  who  want 
to  verify  them.  They  will  come  and  spring  sud- 
den statements  or  questions  on  you ;  hypothetical 
questions,  we  call  them." 

Hartley  winced  as  he  recalled  his  recent  inter- 
view with  Johnson. 

"You  must  be  ready  for  all  kinds  of  traps," 
the  lawyer  continued.  "For  instance,  some  one 
may  call  you  up  on  the  telephone  and  ask  you 
for  Maynard's  address,  simply  to  betray  you 
into  the  acknowledgment  that  you  know  May- 
nard.  You  should  be  especially  careful  of 
women.  They  are  great  information  getters. 
If  any  strange  woman  calls  on  you,  don't  let  her 
see  you,  especially  if  she  is  good-looking.  You 
are  in  a  bad  mess  with  this  thing,  and  if  the 
whole  story  ever  comes  out,  you  will  certainly  be 
charged  as  an  accessory  before  the  fact." 

"It  was  all  a  foolish  after-dinner  affair." 

"Many  little  'after-dinner'  affairs  have  got 
the  diners  into  serious  trouble  before  now,  Mr. 
Hartley.  Take  my  advice.  Keep  quiet,  see  no 
one,  and  get  some  confidential  man  in  your  office 
to  see  strangers  before  they  get  to  you.  For 
my  part,  if  it  is  any  satisfaction  to  you  to  know 
it,  I  think  it  will  turn  out  eventually  that 


Cab  No.  44  161 

Fletcher  had  nothing  to  do  with  Maynard's 
murder.  That  probably  happened  some  time 
after  Fletcher  left  him.  My  theory,"  continued 
the  lawyer,  "would  be  that  some  one  knew  May- 
nard  had  that  money  on  him  that  night,  but  of 
course  had  no  idea  that  Fletcher  was  to  relieve 
him  of  it,  and  that  this  person  was  the  one  that 
committed  the  murder.  If  the  mystery  is  ever 
cleared  up,  I  think  you  will  find  that  is  it.  But 
for  this  unfortunate  complication  of  your  little 
after-dinner  joke,  I  should  advise  going  to  the 
police  at  once,  and  telling  them  that  the  body 
in  the  river,  was  Maynard's." 

"That  would  never  do!"  exclaimed  Hartley 
hastily,  shivering  at  the  very  thought.  Then  he 
added:  "The  only  thing  that  makes  me  doubt 
your  theory  is  that  I  think  if  Fletcher  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it,  he  would  come  out  of  his  hid- 
ing at  once,  so  as  to  clear  himself  of  the  suspicion 
of  the  murder."  j 

"There  is  no  suspicion  of  murder  lying  against 
Fletcher,  my  dear  sir.  No  one  has  made  as 
much  as  a  guess  at  the  identity  of  the  corpse, 
much  less  at  the  name  of  the  murderer.  That 
is  where  your  guilty  conscience  shows  you  are 
ahead  of  the  facts  known  to  the  public." 

Hartley  smiled  as  he  recalled  Johnson's 
theory,  but  he  deemed  it  unwise  to  say  anything 


1 62,  Cab  No.  44 

about  that  to  Mr.  Groscup.  It  might  lead  to 
unpleasant  questions. 

"From  what  Douglas  told  me,"  continued  the 
lawyer,  "this  Fletcher  is  a  pretty  smart  fellow, 
and  stands  to  win  quite  a  tidy  sum  if  he  suc- 
ceeds in  his  little  game  of  hide  and  seek." 

"He's  got  all  the  money  he'll  ever  make  out 
of  it  now.  That's  Maynard's  five  thousand. 
The  minute  he  shows  up  again,  the  police  will 
pinch  him.  They  will  never  let  him  slip  through 
their  fingers  a  second  time." 

"A  second  time!"  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  lift- 
ing his  eyebrows.  "And  pray  when  was  the  first 
time  the  police  had  their  fingers  on  Mr.  Fletcher, 
and  what  for?" 

The  lawyer's  keen  glance  at  Hartley's  flushed 
face  showed  that  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of 
some  woolly  hair  in  the  woodpile. 

Not  knowing  exactly  what  to  say,  Hartley 
managed  to  imitate  a  laugh  while  he  collected 
his  thoughts.  Then  he  said  lightly : 

"Oh,  I've  always  had  a  theory  that  it  is  never 
the  first  offense  with  these  criminals.  Take  any 
of  them,  and  look  up  his  past,  and  you  will  find 
it's  only  the  hatching  out  of  a  bad  egg."  He 
knew  the  answer  did  not  satisfy  the  lawyer,  who 
was  still  looking  at  him  quizzically.  Feeling 


Cab  No.  44  163 

rather  uncomfortable,  he  pulled  out  his  watch, 
and  declared  he  must  be  going  back  to  the  office. 

As  he  drove  along,  he  could  not  help  cursing 
himself  for  the  slip  he  had  just  made.  The 
lawyer's  remarks  had  made  a  great  impression 
on  him,  and  the  closing  incident  of  the  conversa- 
tion had  amply  demonstrated  the  truth  of  Gros- 
cup's  theory  about  the  possession  of  guilty 
knowledge.  If  he  betrayed  himself  in  that  way 
to  a  person  that  had  no  suspicions  whatever, 
what  would  happen  if  he  were  skilfully  ques- 
tioned by  some  one  who  knew,  or  who  fancied 
he  knew,  the  facts? 

Turning  over  in  his  mind  the  best  way  to 
avoid  any  possible  trap  that  might  be  laid  for 
him  by  persons  coming  to  his  office,  he  concluded 
that  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  follow  the 
lawyer's  advice  and  have  some  one  to  take  his 
place,  in  case  he  should  be  asked  for  by 
strangers.  Any  person  that  knew  him  would  not 
be  deceived,  of  course;  but  so  many  people  asked 
to  see  him  who  did  not  know  whether  they  were 
really  talking  to  Mr.  Hartley  or  not,  that  a  sub- 
stitute should  answer  very  well. 

The  only  question  was  to  find  a  man  of  the 
right  age.  He  did  not  like  to  trust  every  one 
with  such  a  matter.  It  would  lead  to  talk,  and 
perhaps  to  questions.  The  only  person  he  cared 


164  Cab  No.  44 

to  ask  to  undertake  it  was  McBride.  He  was 
rather  young,  of  course;  but  the  kind  of  people 
Hartley  was  afraid  of  would  probably  not  stop 
to  ask  questions  about  ages.  He  would  try  it 
for  a  day  or  two,  and  see  how  it  worked.  If 
anything  went  wrong,  it  could  easily  be  turned 
off  with  some  excuse  or  other  about  its  being  a 
mistake  on  the  caller's  part,  or  something  like 
that. 

He  called  McBride  into  his  office  and  ex- 
plained briefly  what  he  wanted  done,  without 
giving  the  true  reason  for  it,  however.  His 
confidence  in  his  clerk  stopped  short  of  that 
point.  He  harped  upon  being  bothered  so  much 
by  beggars  and  such  persons  shortly  before  the 
holidays,  and  suggested  that  McBride  should  sit 
at  his  desk  for  a  few  days,  while  he  would 
occupy  the  inner  sanctum,  the  door  of  which 
was  visible  only  when  one  was  well  inside  the 
private  office. 

"You  need  not  say  who  you  are,  you  know," 
the  older  man  explained.  "If  they  see  you  sit- 
ting there,  they  will  think  you  must  be  Mr. 
Hartley.  Tell  the  boys  that  if  any  one  asks  for 
me  to  show  him  into  this  office,  just  as  if  I  were 
here.  Then  you  can  tackle  him.  If  it's  any 
one  I  know  or  want  to  see,"  he  went  on  lightly, 
"I  can  step  out  and  say  howdy-do.  But  if  it's 


Cab  No.  44  165 

any  one  I  don't  want  to  see  I  shall  trust  to  you  to 
dispose  of  them  in  your  usual  graceful  manner. 
I  can  hear  what  goes  on  from  my  little  den,  you 
know." 


THURSDAY  morning,  the  morning 
after  Hardy  Maxwell,  or  Milton 
Fletcher,  or  Stewart,  or  whatever  his 
name  was,  had  dined  at  the  Ohlstroms'  and  had 
made  his  avowal,  Helen  Ohlstrom  was  awake 
earlier  than  usual,  and  looked  at  herself  in  the 
mirror  with  unaccustomed  interest.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  by  assuring  herself  that  she  was  still 
in  the  flesh,  and  not  dreaming,  she  could  get  an 
answer  to  the  question  that  was  continually  run- 
ning through  her  head : 

"Am  I  engaged  or  am  I  not?" 

Her  preoccupation  at  breakfast  was  so  evi- 
dent that  it  attracted  the  attention  of  her 
parents;  but  she  turned  aside  their  questions 
with  a  laugh.  Immediately  after  breakfast  she 
went  out  for  a  walk;  but  while  she  looked  in 
the  shop  windows,  and  occasionally  went  in  for 
a  moment,  she  was  conscious  that  she  saw  noth- 
ing, or  did  not  care  about  what  she  saw.  Her 
whole  mind  and  imagination  were  occupied  in 
running  over  again  and  again  everything  that 
had  happened  the  night  before. 

She  tried  to  recall  Maxwell's  exact  words. 

166 


Cab  No.  44  167 

She  could  still  feel  that  first  kiss  upon  her  cheek. 
And  then,  she  had  kissed  him,  had  she  not? 
Yes,  there  could  be  no  mistake  about  that.  A 
woman  never  forgets  the  first  time  she  kisses  a 
man  full  upon  the  mouth.  She  could  still  feel 
his  powerful  arms  about  her  waist.  She  had 
no  idea  that  he  was  so  strong;  or  was  it  that 
she  was  so  unresisting?  And  what  was  it  that 
he  had  said?  How  did  he  express  it?  Of 
course  she  must  be  engaged!  And  yet  he  had 
not  exactly  asked  her  to  marry  him. 

He  would  surely  call  again  that  evening,  and 
then  it  would  be  settled.  Perhaps  he  would  send 
her  a  note.  Maybe  a  messenger  would  bring 
something  for  her  during  the  day;  or  was  it  the 
proper  thing  for  him  to  put  the  engagement  ring 
on  her  finger  himself?  In  her  heart  she  felt  that 
her  faith  in  him  was  absolute,  whether  the  en- 
gagement ring  was  on  her  finger  or  not. 

But  Hardy  Maxwell  did  not  come  that  eve- 
ning nor  the  next.  He  wrote  no  line :  he  spoke 
no  word.  It  was  very  strange.  She  did  not  like 
to  appear  to  be  running  after  him,  or  she  would 
have  sent  a  note  to  the  club.  On  Sunday  she  was 
certain  he  would  call.  Dressed  in  her  best  frock, 
with  her  hair  done  up  in  most  bewitching 
fashion,  she  sat  at  the  window  watching  for  him 
from  two  o'clock  until  tea  time.  Many  a  passer- 


1 68  Cab  No.  44 

by  cast  a  longing  glance  at  the  window  that  Sun- 
day afternoon. 

After  tea  Helen  went  to  the  window  again 
and  stood  looking  out  into  the  deepening 
shadows  until  her  mother  brought  her  back  into 
the  room.  Was  there  any  suspicion  in  the 
mother's  heart  of  what  was  wrong?  Did  she 
guess  the  truth  when  her  daughter  went  up  to 
her  own  room  shortly  after  eight  o'clock  and 
locked  herself  in?  Who  knows? 

Monday  and  Tuesday  wore  away  and  Wed- 
nesday came,  without  a  word  or  a  sign  from 
Maxwell.  The  happy  recollections,  the  eager 
rehearsals  of  the  events  of  the  Wednesday  be- 
fore were  changed  to  a  feeling  of  mortification 
and  chagrin.  Helen  could  not  help  telling  her- 
self that  perhaps  she  had  been  hasty  or  foolish, 
although  she  had  gone  too  far  to  retrace  her 
steps.  She  had  given  her  heart  to  Hardy  Max- 
well, and  even  if  he  had  trampled  on  it,  it  was 
still  his.  His  pledge  to  secrecy  worried  her; 
it  added  to  her  sense  of  humiliation. 

But  this  suspense  was  becoming  too  much  for 
her.  When  her  mother  remarked  that  Mr. 
Maxwell's  calls  had  ceased,  she  did  not  answer. 
When  Mrs.  Ohlstrom  hinted  that  she  feared 
they  had  had  a  quarrel  or  something,  Helen  only 
turned  her  head  away  to  hide  the  gathering 


Cab  No.  44  169 

tears.  Then  the  mother  knew.  All  she  could 
do  was  to  shake  her  head  sadly  and  to  express 
a  hope  that  things  would  turn  out  all  right. 

Madge  annoyed  her  more  than  any  one  else. 
Of  course  the  girl  had  heard  all  about  the 
handsome  young  Englishman  and  knew  of  his 
attentions  to  Helen.  In  fact,  she  was  to  have 
met  Mr.  Maxwell  that  week  and  had  learned 
the  reason  why  Helen  had  canceled  the  invita- 
tion that  had  been  given  to  her.  Madge's  idea 
seemed  to  be  that  it  would  be  better  for  Helen 
to  forget  all  about  Maxwell,  and  to  that  end 
she  set  herself  to  apply  the  commonplace  remedy 
of  leading  her  friend  to  believe  that  he  was  not 
worth  remembering. 

"Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  he  might  be 
married?"  she  demanded  one  day.  "You  know 
so  many  of  these  Englishmen  say  nothing  about 
their  domestic  affairs." 

"My  uncle  did  not  mention  that  he  was  a 
married  man,"  retorted  Helen  rather  stiffly. 

"Of  course  the  introduction  was  not  sent  to 
you.  Perhaps  your  uncle  was  not  aware  what 
an  attractive  niece  he  had.  Heigh-ho!  I  sup- 
pose it  is  another  case  of  necessary  disappear- 
ance, like  our  mutual  friend  Mr.  Lathrop." 

"The  two  men  are  not  in  the  same  class," 
replied  Helen,  flaring  up,  "although  I  have 


170  Cab  No.  44 

nothing  to  complain  of  with  regard  to  Mr. 
Lathrop.  He  was  always  a  gentleman  when  he 
was  with  me,"  and  she  shot  a  glance  at  Madge 
that  made  the  young  lady  wince  and  change 
color. 

"I  am  sorry  I  ever  told  you  any  of  my 
secrets,"  Madge  retorted.  "But,"  she  added 
almost  spitefully,  "it's  better  than  having  a 
married  man  make  love  to  you  and  go  walking 
with  you  almost  every  day,  and  then  take  French 
leave." 

"He's  not  married.  It's  a  lie  and  you  know 
it,"  Helen  snapped,  stamping  her  foot,  her  eyes 
blazing  with  anger. 

"My!  But  your  temper  certainly  does  get 
the  best  of  you  at  times,  Helen  1"  answered 
Madge.  "It  reminds  me  of  the  way  you  went 
on  when  they  found  out  Charlie  Thorpe  had 
been  stealing  the  money  he  used  to  spend  so 
freely  for  theater  tickets  and  things.  The  way 
you  stood  up  for  Charlie  and  insisted  that  it 
was  all  a  mistake  made  the  rest  of  us  laugh." 

"They  never  proved  it.  I  never  believed  a 
word  of  it.  Some  people  believe  everything 
they  hear  that  is  bad  about  a  man,  no  matter 
how  good  he  has  been  to  them.  Charlie  Thorpe 
was  a  nice  boy.  I  was  awfully  sorry  for  him. 
I  hope  it  will  all  come  out  right  some  day,  be- 


Cab  No.  44  171 

cause  I  don't  believe  he  was  guilty  at  all,  poor 
fellow." 

"Oh,  they  are  all  nice  to  you,"  retorted 
Madge,  standing  up  to  go.  "I  never  heard 
you  say  a  bad  word  about  any  one  yet ;  not  even 
about  a  woman.  The  way  you  begged  off  for 
Annie  Ordway  used  to  amuse  me  immensely. 
We  thought  at  one  time  you  were  going  to  call 
on  her.  She  would  have  been  a  good  match  for 
your  friend  Mr.  Maxwell,  apparently." 

"Now,  Madge,"  said  Helen,  rather  sharply, 
"I  do  not  want  to  hear  anything  more  on  that 
subject." 

"Oh,  I  hope  you  will  hear  from  him  soon. 
Perhaps  he  will  call,  or  write,  or  something. 
I  must  be  off  now,"  and  with  that  she  swept 
out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XX 

SOMEHOW  or  other,  that  conversation 
with  Madge  rankled.  It  had  brought 
forth  in  the  words  of  another  an  idea 
which  Helen  Ohlstrom  had  been  trying  to  hide 
from  her  own  thoughts;  the  idea  that  Hardy 
Maxwell  might  be  a  married  man. 

For  the  hundredth  time  she  went  over  all 
the  possibilities  that  might  prevent  him  from 
communicating  with  her;  but  in  spite  of  herself 
she  had  to  confess  that  only  two  of  them  offered 
a  reasonable  explanation.  He  had  met  with  an 
accident  that  prevented  him  from  writing,  or 
he  had  been  trifling  with  her. 

If  it  were  an  accident  and  he  was  not  killed, 
he  surely  could  not  be  unconscious  all  this  time, 
and  she  should  be  the  first  person  he  would  think 
of  on  coming  to  himself.  If  he  were  killed,  she 
would  have  known  of  it  somehow,  surely. 

She  had  heard  of  men  that  simply  led  girls 
on,  just  to  amuse  themselves.  Madge  had  con- 
fessed to  several  experiences  of  that  sort.  If 
Hardy  Maxwell  had  been  trifling  with  her,  why 
had  he  stopped  when  he  did?  It  must  be  be- 
cause he  was  a  married  man,  and  knew  that  she 
172 


Cab  No.  44  173 

would  inevitably  find  it  out  in  time  through 
her  relatives  in  England.  Whether  he  was 
married  or  not,  his  conduct  was  certainly  most 
dishonorable  if  he  had  simply  dropped  her,  as 
Madge  insisted.  She  could  not  believe  it;  he 
was  so  handsome  and  tall  and  strong,  she  told 
herself,  as  if  that  were  sufficient  answer  to  every 
doubt. 

On  Thursday  morning  she  could  bear  the  un- 
certainty no  longer.  Putting  on  her  things,  she 
went  out  with  the  idea  of  finding  a  telephone 
pay-station  and  calling  up  the  club  where  the 
men  in  charge  ought  to  know  something  about 
Maxwell. 

In  answer  to  her  question  they  were  sorry 
to  say  that  they  did  not  know  any  Mr.  Max- 
well there.  Was  he  a  member?  No?  Only  a 
visitor?  Please  wait  a  moment. 

There  was  no  such  name  on  the  visitors'  list. 
Probably  the  lady  was  mistaken  in  the  name  of 
the  club. 

She  did  not  think  so,  but  it  might  be  possible. 
Good-by. 

The  result  of  her  first  inquiry  was  so  unex- 
pected that  Helen  felt  completely  prostrated. 
She  went  out  into  the  air  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  tried  to  think  what  to  do  next.  After  walk- 


174  Cab  No.  44 

ing  about  for  nearly  an  hour,  she  determined 
to  try  again,  and  to  telephone  to  Mr.  Douglas. 

Mr.  Douglas  had  gone  abroad.    Very  sorry. 

After  these  two  failures,  Helen  did  not  like 
to  call  up  any  one  else,  and  the  only  one  she 
could  think  of  was  Mr.  Hartley.  He  had 
known  her  father,  and  it  might  be  awkward 
if  he  recognized  her  name.  That  seemed  the 
only  hope  left,  when  she  recollected  Dr.  Ramie. 
How  clearly  all  those  names  came  back  to  her ! 
How  sharply  she  recalled  that  after-dinner 
story  during  her  walk  with  Hardy  Maxwell. 
How  well  he  looked  that  day,  and  how  admir- 
ingly he  had  gazed  at  her  as  they  kept  step 
together  over  th£  sand.  And  once,  she  remem- 
bered, he  had  walked  so  close  to  her  that  she 
could  feel  the  pressure  of  his  arm  against  her 
own.  So  vivid  was  the  recollection  that  she  al- 
most felt  him  still  at  her  side. 

With  her  memory  running  back  over  the 
happy  past,  she  forgot  all  about  the  telephone 
until  she  had  walked  a  long  way.  Then  she 
seemed  to  awake  as  from  a  dream,  and  remem- 
bered the  hard  reality  of  her  errand.  She 
stopped,  turned  back,  and  after  finding  a  con- 
venient telephone,  called  up  Dr.  Ramie's  office. 

It  was  not  the  doctor's  office  hour.  He  would 
not  be  in  again  until  late  that  evening. 


Cab  No.  44  175 

There  was  nothing  to  do  now  but  to  turn  to 
Mr.  Hartley.  She  must  find  out  something. 

"A  lady  on  the  'phone,  asking  if  you  are 
in,"  was  James  McBride's  report,  a  few  minutes 
later. 

Hartley  almost  jumped  out  of  his  chair.  "A 
lady?  Asking  for  me?  No,  no!  Tell  her  I'm 
not  in  town.  Tell  her  I've  gone  to  Europe — 
Florida — Bermuda — anything  you  like.  Say  I 
won't  be  back  this  winter." 

McBride  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  earnest- 
ness of  the  repudiation  of  the  first  call  in  a 
woman's  voice  that  he  could  recollect  having 
come  over  the  telephone  since  he  had  been  in 
the  service  of  Mr.  George  Hartley.  But  in- 
stead of  repeating  his  superior's  emphatic  mes- 
sage, he  answered  with  his  softest  and  most 
agreeable  voice  that  he  was  very  sorry,  but  Mr. 
Hartley  was  not  in  the  city. 

Would  he  return  soon? 

He  was  not  expected  for  some  time.  Could 
they  do  anything  for  her? 

The  voice  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire  was 
particularly  attractive,  and  had  a  peculiar  fas- 
cination for  McBride,  who  was  not  averse  to 
continuing  the  conversation. 

Did  he  happen  to  know  Mr.  Maxwell's  pres- 
ent address? 


Ij6  Cab  No.  44 

Putting  his  hand  over  the  transmitter, 
McBride  propounded  this  question  to  his  su- 
perior, who  was  standing  by,  evidently  wish- 
ing the  connection  to  be  cut  off  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, but  still  curious  to  know  who  it  was. 

"Maxwell?  No.  Never  heard  of  him,"  and 
then  to  himself:  "This  is  one  of  those  traps, 
sure  as  I  live !  Wants  me  to  ask  if  she  doesn't 
mean  Maynard,  so  she  gets  off  a  name  some- 
thing like  it."  Then  he  added  aloud:  "No. 
Tell  her  no,  and  shut  her  off." 

In  spite  of  this  peremptory  instruction, 
McBride  concluded  the  conversation  as  delib- 
erately and  as  gracefully  as  possible,  with  many 
regrets  that  he  could  not  be  of  service  to  the 
owner  of  the  voice.  He  even  went  so  far  as 
to  make  the  unpardonable  mistake  of  asking  her 
to  call  him  up  again  if  he  could  do  anything 
for  her.  This  made  Hartley  so  angry  that  he 
snatched  the  receiver  and  hung  it  up  himself. 

"Cut  those  women  out  in  future,  James,"  he 
commanded.  "They're  no  good.  Beggars;  all 
of  them.  They  used  to  be  book  agents;  now 
they're  simply  beggars." 

"Not  exactly  the  voice  of  a  book  agent  or 
a  beggar,  sir,"  remarked  McBride  quietly. 
"Quite  a  nice  voice,  in  fact.  Shouldn't  wonder 
if  she  were  a  very  pretty  girl." 


Cab  No.  44  177 

"You  young  fellows  think  every  girl  you 
can't  see  must  be  a  beauty,"  rejoined  Hartley 
with  a  scowl.  "The  world  is  full  of  Margery 
Daws  at  your  time  of  life.  Come,  let's  get  down 
to  business  on  these  letters.  I'll  have  that  tele- 
phone taken  out  if  it  gives  much  more  trouble." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  next  morning  at  breakfast,  Mr. 
Ohlstrom  seemed  to  find  the  paper 
more  than  usually  interesting.  He 
was  in  the  habit  of  standing  it  up  in  front  of 
his  plate  and  reading  between  bites.  Occasion- 
ally he  would  clear  his  throat  and  read  an  item 
aloud,  but  his  selections  were  seldom  of  any 
interest  to  his  family.  They  were  usually  polit- 
ical or  financial  news,  or  connected  with  some 
of  the  enterprises  in  which  he  had  been  engaged 
during  his  active  life. 

"I  see  they  had  a  meeting  of  the  directors 
of  the  Tyler  Trust  Company  yesterday,  and 
elected  George  Hartley  president."  Then  he 
read :  "  'Mr.  Hartley's  views  of  the  proper  man- 
agement of  trust  companies  were  listened  to  with 
profound  attention,  and  the  soundness  of  his 
financial  principles  called  forth  strong  commen- 
dation from  all  those  that  heard  him.' '  After 
a  pause  he  observed:  "Smart  fellow,  that 
Hartley." 

"Isn't  he  the  president  of  the  Hardware 
Trust  or  something  of  that  kind,  papa?"  Helen 
asked. 

178 


Cab  No.  44  179 

"That's  he.  Tricky  dog,  but  smart.  His 
views  of  finance  can  be  expressed  in  one  sen- 
tence, 'Get  the  other  fellow's  money.' ' 

Mr.  Ohlstrom  read  other  items,  but  Helen 
was  not  listening.  She  was  thinking  about  that 
conversation  over  the  telephone.  Mr.  Hartley 
must  have  been  in  the  city  yesterday;  was  per- 
haps in  his  office  at  the  very  moment  that  she 
called  him  up.  "Tricky  dog!"  What  did  that 
mean?  Why  had  he  denied  himself  to  her? 
She  had  not  given  any  name.  Who  was  the 
pleasant-voiced  man  who  had  answered  the  tele- 
phone? 

That  morning,  about  twelve  o'clock,  McBride 
rose  from  the  dignity  of  his  desk  in  the  private 
office,  with  the  intention  of  going  into  the  sanc- 
tum to  ask  Mr.  Hartley  a  question.  Happen- 
ing to  glance  through  the  half-open  door  which 
led  to  the  outer  office,  he  saw  a  remarkably  hand- 
some girl  standing  at  the  desk.  At  the  same  in- 
stant the  boy  put  his  head  in  and  handed 
McBride  a  card. 

"A  lady  to  see  Mr.  Hartley,  sir." 

Before  McBride  had  time  to  read  the  name, 
the  girl  followed  the  card  into  the  room. 

"I  am  Miss  Ohlstrom,"  she  said  briefly,  and 
smiled  at  the  handsome  young  fellow  that  stood 
blushing  before  her.  McBride  instantly  recog- 


i8o  Cab  No.  44 

nized  the  voice  that  he  had  heard  over  the  tele- 
phone the  day  before.  He  was  so  taken  aback, 
not  only  by  her  sudden  appearance,  but  by  the 
vision  of  loveliness  that  she  revealed  with  her 
rosy  cheeks  and  flashing  eyes,  that  he  was  ab- 
solutely speechless. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  he  managed  to 
stammer,  motioning  her  to  a  chair;  an  invita- 
tion which  she  pretended  not  to  see. 

"I  should  like  to  see  Mr.  Hartley  for  a 
moment." 

At  this  announcement  McBride  fairly  stag- 
gered. Was  he  to  continue  his  role  and  to  say 
that  he  was  Mr.  Hartley,  after  having  told  her 
over  the  telephone  the  day  before  that  Mr. 
Hartley  was  not  in  town?  Or  should  he  call 
Mr.  Hartley  from  the  inner  room?  The  sud- 
den recollection  of  the  scene  at  his  end  of  the 
wire  the  day  before  vetoed  his  second  thought. 
Instead  of  answering  immediately,  he  stepped 
behind  her  and  softly  closed  the  door  leading 
to  the  outer  office.  A  rapid  glance  at  the  door 
of  the  sanctum  assured  him  that  the  outer  sound 
door  was  wide  open,  so  that  Mr.  Hartley  could 
hear  all  that  passed,  if  he  chose  to  listen. 
McBride  found  himself  wishing  that  his  em- 
ployer and  his  inner  office  were  both  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea. 


Cab  No.  '44  181 

All  this  passed  while  he  closed  the  door.  Pull- 
ing himself  together,  he  laid  the  papers  in  his 
hand  upon  the  desk,  and  said  quietly,  with  his 
most  graceful  bow:  "I  am  Mr.  Hartley."  As 
he  spoke  he  motioned  once  more  to  the  chair 
at  the  side  of  the  desk. 

The  look  of  unconcealed  astonishment  on  the 
girl's  face  made  him  blush.  He  smiled  as  as- 
suringly  as  he  could,  and  added:  "Is  there  any- 
thing I  can  do  for  you?" 

That  was  the  second  time  he  had  said  it. 
The  tone  as  well  as  the  words  struck  her  at 
once.  It  was  the  same  voice  that  had  spoken 
to  her  over  the  telephone  the  day  before. 
"Tricky  dog"  were  the  words  that  kept  running 
through  her  head.  "What  a  handsome  fellow  1" 
she  could  not  help  adding  to  herself. 

"It  was  Mr.  George  Hartley  I  wished  to 
see,"  she  said,  as  she  suddenly  recollected  that 
Mr.  Hartley  must  be  a  much  older  man.  At 
the  same  time  she  sank  into  the  indicated  chair. 

"I  am  Mr.  George  Hartley." 

She  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  say,  when 
it  occurred  to  her  that  this  might  be  Mr.  George 
Hartley,  Junior,  if  there  were  such  a  person. 
His  manner  was  certainly  very  polite  and  en- 
couraging. Why  should  she  not  come  at  once 
to  the  point? 


1 82  Cab  No.  44 

"I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  for  intruding 
upon  you,"  she  began,  "but  I  am  very  anxious 
about  a  mutual  friend  who  brought  letters  to 
us  from  England.  We  fear  he  has  met  with 
some  accident,  as  we  have  heard  or  seen  noth- 
ing of  him  for  a  week.  I  refer  to  Mr.  Hardy 
Maxwell." 

Again  McBride  was  very  sorry,  but  he  had 
never  heard  of  the  gentleman.  At  the  same 
moment,  he  was  conscious  that  the  door  lead- 
ing to  the  sanctum,  which  was  directly  behind 
Miss  Ohlstrom,  was  opened  about  an  inch.  Mr. 
Hartley  was  evidently  listening. 

Hartley  was  more  than  listening.  He  was 
getting  terribly  nervous,  and  running  over  in  his 
mind  a  thousand  schemes  to  put  a  stop  to  the 
conversation  in  the  other  room  before  it  got  too 
far.  He  perceived  a  return  of  the  trap  that  had 
been  set  for  him  over  the  telephone.  He 
thought  the  female  detective  had  arrived. 

"Have  you  not  heard  his  name  mentioned?" 
she  said,  still  thinking  McBride  might  be  Mr. 
Hartley's  son. 

"Never.  I  am  sure  none  of  my  family  ever 
heard  of  such  a  person."  He  was  quoting  what 
Mr.  Hartley  had  said  the  day  before. 

"Why,  you  astonish  me,"  she  almost  gasped. 
"I  mean  the  friend  of  Mr.  Maynard." 


Cab  No.  44  183 

"I  never  heard  of  Mr.  Maynard,"  McBride 
answered  quietly,  although  he  felt  that  he  was 
putting  his  foot  into  it  somehow. 

The  door  of  the  sanctum  opened  fully  a  foot, 
and  without  looking  in  that  direction,  McBride 
was  conscious  that  Hartley  was  shaking  his  fist 
at  him,  and  was  greatly  excited  about  something. 
A  casual  glance,  a  moment  later,  was  instantly 
answered  by  Hartley's  making  motions  with 
both  hands  which  clearly  indicated  that  he 
wished  his  confidential  clerk  to  throw  the  young 
lady  out. 

Helen  stood  up  presently,  inserting  both  her 
hands  in  her  muff.  She  looked  McBride  straight 
in  the  face  as  he  rose  with  her.  The  pretty 
mouth  was  now  a  thin  red  line. 

"You  will  pardon  me,  sir,  but  I  do  not  think 
you  are  Mr.  Hartley,  or  you  would  know  both 
those  gentlemen  well."  The  inner  door  of  the 
sanctum  shut  quickly  as  she  stood  up.  McBride 
was  strongly  tempted  to  walk  over  and  shut  the 
sound  door  as  well;  but  he  feared  it  would  at- 
tract Miss  Ohlstrom's  attention  to  the  inner 
room. 

"Why,  really,  you  see,"  he  stammered,  "I 
know  so  many  people,  it  is  just  possible  that  I 
do  not  recognize  the  names  for  the  moment. 
Perhaps  I  have  not  seen  the  gentlemen  you 


184  Cab  No.  44 

mention  for  some  time.  Perhaps  I  am  in  the 
habit  of  calling  them  by  their  first  names." 

He  did  not  know  exactly  what  he  was  say- 
ing. He  wished  only  that  Mr.  Hartley  was  in 
Guinea.  Then  he  would  come  right  out  with 
the  truth  and  have  done  with  this  farce.  Here 
was  a  beautiful  girl,  standing  up  and  talking 
to  him  so  frankly,  and  he  was  lying  to  her  like 
a  horse-thief. 

"I  really  do  not  understand  matters,"  she 
said,  "unless  it  is  that  you  are  only  Mr.  Hart- 
ley's son." 

"Of  course  I  am,"  he  said,  instantly  grasping 
at  the  straw.  "You  surely  didn't  imagine  I  was 
the  president?" 

The  sweetness  of  the  smile  she  gave  him  as 
she  sat  down  again  was  worth  a  thousand  lies. 
He  could  not  help  acknowledging  to  himself 
that  he  had  never  seen  such  a  beauty.  She  was 
just  what  his  fancy  had  always  pictured  the  per- 
fect girl  to  be,  only  more  so.  He  was  so  in- 
tent on  looking  at  her  that  he  entirely  forgot 
what  her  errand  was. 

Had  Hartley  known  what  was  passing 
through  the  mind  of  his  confidential  clerk,  he 
would  probably  have  reasoned  that  Miss  Right 
had  arrived;  but  just  at  that  moment  Hartley 
had  troubles  of  his  own,  and  was  clenching  his 


Cab  No.  44  185 

fists  and  muttering  curses  to  himself,  as  he 
realized  that  the  interview  in  the  other  room 
was  to  be  continued.  If  that  girl  did  not  go, 
he  would  have  a  stroke  of  apoplexy. 

"Well,  Mr.  Hartley,"  Helen  began,  not 
knowing  that  the  door  behind  her  was  slowly 
opening  again,  "Mr.  Maxwell  and  Mr.  May- 
nard  are  friends  of  your  father's,  and  I  wish 
very  much  that  you  would  ask  your  father  if  he 
knows  anything  of  Mr.  Maxwell's  present 
whereabouts,  because  we  are  very  anxious  about 
him." 

"Maxwell !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hartley  to  him- 
self, in  the  other  room.  "Another  name  for  that 
fellow,  I  suppose.  And  this  must  be  the  girl 
that  Doremus  is  after,  and  Fletcher  has  not  writ- 
ten to  her  yet,  eh?  On  my  word!"  pulling  the 
door  open  a  little  wider,  and  forgetting  his  ex- 
citement for  the  moment  as  he  took  a  good  look 
at  the  figure  in  the  chair — "my  word,  but  she's 
a  stunner!  Johnson's  right  about  that!" 

McBride  came  to  himself,  as  he  realized  that 
the  girl  was  waiting  for  an  answer  to  her  ques- 
tion. 

"Certainly!  I  shall  tell  him  all  about  it.  I 
mean,  I  shall  ask  Mr.  Hartley — my  father,  I 
mean,  about  the  matter  when  I  see  him.  And, 


Cab  No.  44 


and  —  where  shall  I  send  you  word?"  This  was 
said  with  a  most  engaging  smile. 

"Is  there  no  way  you  can  telephone  and  ask 
him?" 

Helen  did  not  like  the  idea  of  giving  her  ad- 
dress. She  had  hesitated  about  giving  her  right 
name;  but  as  Mr.  Hartley,  Junior,  had  not 
recognized  it,  it  did  not  matter. 

"I  am  afraid  I  could  not  reach  him  by  tele- 
phone," McBride  answered  very  positively.  He 
was  determined  not  to  lose  this  opportunity  of 
getting  her  address.  The  bare  possibility  of 
never  seeing  her  again  already  alarmed  him. 
"Are  you  quite  sure  that  he  knows  the  address?" 
he  asked. 

"Oh,  I  think  so.  You  see,  I  telephoned  to 
the  club  and  asked  about  Mr.  Maxwell,  and 
was  very  much  astonished  to  find  they  did  not 
know  any  such  person.  I  suppose  I  must  have 
made  a  mistake  in  the  name  of  the  club,  or 
something.  But  I  know  your  father  will  be 
able  to  tell  you  something,  because  they  were  all 
together  at  dinner  at  Green's  several  times 
lately.  They  had  some  funny  sort  of  a  bet  — 
about  robbing  a  bank  or  something  —  that  Mr. 
Maxwell  seemed  to  be  very  much  interested  in. 
Interested  in  the  bet,  I  mean;  not  the  bank," 


Cab  No.  44  187 

she  added  hastily,  seeing  the  expression  of  sur- 
prise on  the  young  man's  face. 

Hartley  was  in  a  state  of  collapse.  He  saw 
that  if  this  girl  was  allowed  to  go  on,  she  would 
tell  McBride  the  whole  story,  and  then  every- 
body would  know  it,  and  he  might  as  well  sur- 
render to  the  police  at  once.  He  opened  the 
door  wide  enough  to  beckon  frantically  to  his 
clerk;  but  McBride  found  it  convenient  at  that 
moment  to  concentrate  his  gaze  upon  the  face  of 
his  fair  visitor,  who  was  smiling  very  sweetly 
just  then,  and  looking  her  best. 

"Yes,  I  think  it  was  Mr.  Douglas  and  Mr. 
Hartley  who  made  the  bet,"  Helen  went  on. 

"Oh,  it  was  some  dreadful  amount  that  Mr. 

Maxwell  mentioned.    But  I  suppose  your  father 
has  told  you  the  joke  already?" 

"I  heard  a  part  of  it  only,"  said  McBride 

with  a  smile,  adding  to  himself:   "What  a  liar 

I  am  all  at  once!" 

Before  either  of  them  could  say  another  word, 

Hartley  had  determined  to  cross  the  Rubicon. 

He  must  stop  this  tete-a-tete  or  burst  a  blood 

vessel.     He    opened  the  door  of  the  sanctum 

with  a  cough,  and  conscious  that  he  was  very 

red  in  the  face,  strode  into  the  room  with  some 

papers  in  his  hand. 

Without  apparently  noticing  Miss  Ohlstrom's 


1 88  Cab  No.  44 

presence,  he  approached  McBride,  who  instinct- 
ively rose  to  offer  his  chair. 

"Your  father  left  these  papers  for  you,  Mr. 
Hartley,"  he  said,  abruptly.  "I  think  they  need 
your  attention  before  you  go  to  lunch,"  pulling 
out  his  watch  and  glancing  at  it.  Then,  turn- 
ing to  the  young  woman,  whose  appearance 
seemed  to  make  a  marked  improvement  in  his 
manner,  as  soon  as  he  got  a  good  look  at  her 
face,  he  said  quite  politely:  "I  trust  you  will 
pardon  this  intrusion,  but  Mr.  Hartley's  in- 
structions were  to  give  these  papers  to  his  son 
the  moment  they  were  ready." 

As  she  rose  from  her  chair,  McBride  stepped 
back,  but  the  older  man  stood  there  transfixed. 
"On  my  word,"  he  was  saying  to  himself,  "but 
Johnson's  right;  she  is  a  stunner." 

She  was  half  way  out  of  the  door  before 
McBride  recovered  himself  and  rushed  for- 
ward to  hold  it  open  for  her.  Then  he  fol- 
lowed her  into  the  outer  office,  and  opened  that 
door  for  her.  From  there  he  followed  her  into 
the  corridor,  and  saw  her  safely  into  the 
elevator.  Then  he  accompanied  her  downstairs 
in  the  elevator,  without  his  hat,  and  all  the  way 
he  was  chattering,  he  did  not  know  what  about. 
He  had  but  one  idea  in  his  head:  to  get  per- 


Cab  No.  44  189 

mission  to  call  on  her,  and  to  take  her  what 
news  he  could  about  Mr.  Maxwell. 

Helen  could  not  disguise  the  fact  that  she 
was  pleased  at  McBride's  marked  attention. 
She  was  aware  that  she  had  made  a  very  de- 
cided impression.  And  then  he  was  so  nice 
about  it  when  he  insisted  on  bringing  the 
coveted  information  to  her  personally,  if  she 
would  be  good  enough  to  allow  him  to  do  so. 
There  might  be  so  much  more  to  say  than  it 
would  be  convenient  to  write,  etc.  So  finally 
she  gave  him  her  address,  and  smiled  her 
sweetest  smile  as  he  held  the  outer  door  open 
for  her  to  pass  into  the  street. 

When  the  young  man  and  Hartley  were  face 
to  face  again  a  minute  later,  they  looked  at  each 
other  in  silence  for  a  second.  Hartley  expected 
that  he  would  have  to  make  some  unpleasant 
explanations,  or  tell  some  more  lies.  McBride 
was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Isn't  that  a  peach?  By  the  great  horn 
spoon!"  he  cried,  slapping  his  leg  with  his  right 
hand  and  smiling  broadly.  His  eyes  snapped 
with  pleasure  as  he  saw  that  Hartley  evidently 
agreed. 

"She's  a  stunner!"  assented  the  older  man. 
"What  did  you  say  her  name  was?"  He  picked 
up  her  card  from  the  desk.  "Miss  Ohlstrom, 


190  Cab  No.  44 

eh  ?"  Hartley  threw  the  card  down  again,  and 
waited  for  his  confidential  man  to  ask  for  in- 
formation about  Maxwell.  Strange  to  say, 
McBride  seemed  to  have  entirely  forgotten 
that  part  of  the  conversation  with  his  visitor. 
He  could  do  nothing  but  talk  about  the  girl. 
It  soon  became  evident  to  Hartley  that  James 
was  badly  smitten.  In  order  to  get  away  him- 
self, he  suggested  to  McBride  that  it  was  time 
for  him  to  go  to  his  luncheon. 

McBride  took  his  hat  and  coat  and  went  out, 
saying  he  would  return  in  an  hour.  A  janitor 
who  was  mopping  up  one  end  of  the  corridor 
looked  up  in  astonishment  at  seeing  the  young 
man  doing  a  two-step  with  great  energy  all  by 
himself,  humming  the  Washington  Post  March 
and  holding  the  tails  of  his  overcoat  in  his  finger 
tips  the  while. 

Going  down  in  the  elevator,  McBride  took 
her  card  out  of  his  pocket  and  jotted  down  her 
address  upon  it.  A  friend  met  him  on  the 
street,  and  asked  him  to  go  to  lunch  with  him. 
He  declined  rather  abruptly.  He  wanted  to  be 
alone  with  his  thoughts  of  Miss  Ohlstrom.  It 
was  not  until  he  was  seated  at  a  table  that  the 
smile  suddenly  left  his  face.  How  about  hav- 
ing given  her  a  false  name?  He  felt  a  sudden 
sense  of  dizziness  as  he  put  his  hand  to  his  head 


Cab  No.  44  191 

and  bit  his  lip.  "I  told  that  girl  more  lies  in 
half  an  hour  than  I  have  told  since  last  Christ- 
mas," he  said  to  himself.  "That  was  a  bad 
beginning,  giving  her  a  wrong  name." 

All  the  afternoon  he  could  think  of  nothing 
but  how  to  straighten  that  difficulty  out.  He 
felt  ashamed  of  himself;  and  he  realized  that 
it  would  place  him  in  a  very  bad  light  with  her. 
Moreover,  Miss  Ohlstrom  probably  would  be 
chagrined  to  find  that  he  was  nothing  but  a 
clerk.  "Dash  it  all!"  he  said  to  himself.  "Why 
didn't  I  call  in  Hartley  at  once,  instead  of 
getting  myself  into  this  mess?  The  finest  girl 
I  ever  met  in  my  life,  and  this  is  the  way  I 
start  out  with  her!  Dash  it!" 

It  was  nearly  four  o'clock  when  Hartley  took 
his  hat  and  gloves,  and  announced  that  he  was 
going  home.  He  observed  that  McBride  had 
been  very  much  preoccupied  all  the  afternoon, 
and  had  quite  lost  his  gay  spirits  of  the  morn- 
ing. As  Hartley  pulled  on  his  glove,  he  stopped 
a  moment,  and  looked  at  his  clerk,  as  if  expect- 
ing some  question. 

"Anything  more  to-day,  James?" 

"Nothing,  sir.     Thank  you." 

As  Hartley  was  about  to  close  the  door  be- 
hind him,  he  said  quietly:  "By  the  way,  James, 
I  don't  know  any  such  person  as  Mr.  Maxwell. 


192  Cab  No.  44 

Never  heard  the  name  even.  That  thing's  all 
a  mistake.  Must  be  some  other  Hartley  she's 
looking  for.  Good-day." 

When  he  got  out  into  the  corridor  he  smiled. 
"I  did  not  say  I  didn't  know  Maynard,  but  he 
will  think  I  meant  I  didn't  know  either  of 
them,"  he  assured  himself.  "Now,  if  that  girl 
gets  confidential  with  Doremus  and  tells  him 
that  she  called  on  me,  and  describes  my  son  to 
him,  all  that  lying  will  be  wasted.  But  I  am 
following  advice  of  counsel.  I  told  the  truth 
about  one  thing  anyway.  I  don't  know  any  such 
name  as  Maxwell." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AFTER  thinking  the  matter  over  care- 
fully McBride  concluded  that  he 
would  be  more  likely  to  find  Miss 
Ohlstrom  at  home  on  Sunday  afternoon  than 
at  any  other  time.  It  was  hard  to  wait  so 
long,  but  the  interval  was  devoted  to  rosy 
dreams  of  another  chat  with  her,  and  of  the 
cementing  of  an  acquaintance  that  was  going 
to  be  something  more  than  an  acquaintance 
some  day,  or  his  reading  of  his  own  horoscope 
was  sadly  at  fault.  He  had  nothing  to  tell  her 
about  Maxwell ;  but  what  did  that  matter  ?  He 
let  his  imagination  run  absurdly  on,  building 
castles.  They  would  have  a  nice  chat,  and  he 
would  get  permission  to  call  again,  on  some  pre- 
tense or  other.  He  would  find  out  who  her 
friends  were  and  be  formally  introduced,  and 
then  he  would  take  her  to  the  theater,  and  to 
drive;  he  would  see  her  almost  every  day. 
Hartley  was  quite  right  about  one  thing: 
McBride  would  be  an  ardent  lover  when  he 
met  Miss  Right. 

Sunday  afternoon  came,  and  after  making  a 
very  careful  toilet,  and  trying  to  look  his  best, 
193 


194  Cab  No.  44 

although  he  was  really  very  nervous,  McBride 
went  to  the  address  which  Helen  had  given 
him,  and  rang  the  bell.  He  had  prepared  a 
card  on  which  he  had  written,  "Mr.  George 
Hartley,  Jr.,"  and  which  he  handed  to  the  maid 
who  opened  the  door.  He  thought  it  better  to 
keep  that  name  until  he  explained  matters  per- 
sonally. Miss  Ohlstrom  would  not  know  who 
it  was  if  he  sent  up  his  right  name. 

Miss  Ohlstrom  would  be  down  in  a  minute. 
In  a  minute !  How  his  heart  beat !  In  a  minute 
he  was  to  be  face  to  face  with  her  again.  Then 
he  would  refresh  his  memory  with  a  look  at 
her  face;  he  would  study  the  features  that  he 
had  forgotten.  The  general  impression  was 
there,  but  the  details  were  wanting. 

There  was  no  mistaking  that  figure  as  she 
swept  into  the  room.  She  appeared  glad  to 
see  him ;  but  she  did  not  extend  her  hand.  She 
did  not  even  ask  him  to  be  seated.  She  pulled 
up  the  shade  a  little,  and  made  some  remark 
about  not  wanting  a  light  yet.  That  was  all. 
He  felt  chilled,  somehow,  at  this  reception. 

Helen  was  looking  her  best.  The  worry  of 
the  last  week  had  been  stopped  by  the  pros- 
pect of  hearing  something  definite  about  Max- 
well, and  her  face  looked  brighter  for  it. 
McBride's  glance  of  admiration  was  unmistak- 


Cab  No.  44  195 

able  as  he  stood  there,  hat  'in  hand,  simply 
devouring  her  with  his  eyes;  but  he  was  evi- 
dently nervous  and  ill  at  ease.  He  was  sud- 
denly recalled  to  himself  by  seeing  her  glance 
at  the  card  he  had  sent  up,  which  she  now  held 
in  her  hand. 

"Miss  Ohlstrom,  I — I  want  to  make  a  con- 
fession to  you,  Miss  Ohlstrom.  Dash  it  all! 
I'm  not  Mr.  Hartley  at  all.  My  name  is  James 
McBride,"  he  blurted  out. 

"Indeed!"  she  answered  very  quietly,  lifting 
her  eyebrows  a  trifle,  perhaps,  but  without  be- 
traying the  expected  surprise. 

"Yes.  I'm  Mr.  Hartley's  confidential  man — 
in  the  office,  you  know,"  he  stammered. 

"My  father  told  me  last  night  that  Mr. 
Hartley  had  no  grown-up  children."  Her  voice 
was  very  calm  and  business-like. 

"That  was  Mr.  Hartley  that  came  into  the 
room  while  you  were  there,  you  know.  You 
see,  it  was  this  way " 

"But  he  addressed  you  as  Mr.  Hartley,"  she 
interrupted,  looking  very  grave.  "I  really  don't 
understand  such  things;  but  I  suppose  they  are 
considered  necessary  in  some  offices." 

"Well,  you  see,  Miss  Ohlstrom,  Mr.  Hart- 
ley is  bothered  to  death  with  all  sorts  of  people, 
this  time  of  year,  and  they  distract  his  atten- 


196  Cab  No.  44 

tion  from  important  business.  So  he  asked  me 
to  represent  him.  And  then  you  came  in, 
and " 

"I  really  don't  care  to  hear  your  explana- 
tions, or  your  reasons  for  conducting  your  busi- 
ness in  your  own  way,"  she  said  quickly.  "If 
you  will  be  good  enough  to  give  me  any  infor- 
mation you  have  with  regard  to  Mr.  Maxwell, 
I  shall  be  grateful  to  you.  It  would  be  ex- 
tremely awkward  for  me  to  explain  your  pres- 
ence here  should  my  parents  return,  Mr. 

Let  me  see;  what  is  your  name  now?" 

What  is  your  name  now?  Great  heavens! 
And  this  was  the  Sunday  afternoon  visit  that 
he  had  lived  on  the  hopes  of  for  the  last  forty- 
eight  hours!  He  could  have  wept  for  very 
humiliation. 

"Dash  it  all,  Miss  Ohlstrom,  it's  not  my 
fault,"  he  cried.  "I  have  to  obey  orders.  I 
came  up  here  to  set  myself  straight  with  you, 
and  to  beg  your  pardon  for  having  deceived 
you.  My  name  is  James  McBride.  I " 

"Really,  Mr.  McBride,"  Helen  interrupted, 
"I  fail  to  see  any  necessity  for  your  setting  your- 
self straight,  as  you  call  it.  It  is  no  concern  of 
mine  what  name  you  choose  to  assume.  If  you 
will  be  good  enough  to  give  me  the  information 
which  I  presume  it  was  the  object  of  your  visit 


Cab  No.  44  197 

to  bring,  I  will  trouble  you  to  forget  that  we 
ever  met,  and  to  leave  the  house  at  once." 

"Why,  really,  Miss  Ohlstrom,  this  is  unjust, 
as  well  as  unkind.  It  is  not  my  fault  that  I 
had  to  tell  you  I  was  Mr.  Hartley."  The  poor 
fellow  was  red  with  mortification. 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  McBride.  I  do  not  wish 
to  hear  any  excuses.  Have  you  Mr.  Maxwell's 
present  address,  or  any  news  of  him?" 

Something  in  her  manner  and  tone  made  his 
blood  boil.  Drawing  himself  up  to  his  full 
height,  his  eyes  flashing  with  sudden  anger,  he 
blurted  out: 

"Mr.  Hartley  says  he  never  heard  of  any 
such  persons  as  Maynard  or  Maxwell.  He  says 
you  are  mistaken  in  calling  upon  him.  It  must 
be  some  other  Mr.  Hartley  you  are  thinking 
about." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  young  man  felt  him- 
self becoming  more  angry  every  moment.  He 
could  not  trust  himself  further,  so  he  bowed 
stiffly  and  backed  toward  the  door,  with  a  very 
curt,  "I  wish  you  good-afternoon."  The  tones 
of  his  voice  were  very  different  from  those  that 
went  over  the  telephone  wire  a  few  days  before. 

"One  moment,  please,"  she  gasped,  coming 
toward  him  with  both  hands  outstretched.  He 
stood  therej  close  to  the  door,  motionless,  his 


198  Cab  No.  44 

eyes  still  blazing  with  wounded  pride.  She 
passed  one  hand  over  her  forehead,  half  dazed. 
This  tissue  of  falsehoods  seemed  to  make  her 
dizzy.  Not  the  right  Mr.  Hartley!  Never 
heard  of  Maynard  or  Maxwell!  It  was  in- 
credible. What  did  it  all  mean? 

"One  moment,  please,"  she  repeated.  "You 
must  be  mistaken.  Mr.  George  Hartley  is  the 
president  of  the  Hardware  Trust,  is  he  not?" 

"Yes,"  he  almost  snapped. 

"And  a  friend  of  Mr.  Douglas?" 

"Not  at  all.  They  are  very  far  from  friends, 
for  business  reasons.  But  you  will  excuse  me. 
I  must  be  going.  Your  parents  might  return." 
He  said  it  almost  with  a  sneer,  making  another 
step  backward. 

"Just  one  moment,  please,"  she  pleaded,  put- 
ting out  her  hand  as  if  to  hold  him.  She  was 
terrified  to  think  that  her  last  chance  to  learn 
anything  of  her  lover  was  escaping  her.  Some- 
thing in  her  action,  something  in  her  look, 
touched  the  man  for  the  moment.  What  a 
beauty  she  was,  after  all,  he  thought.  What 
is  there  in  a  pretty  girl,  just  on  the  verge  of 
tears,  that  will  make  a  man  act  like  a  fool? 
On  the  impulse  of  the  moment  he  forgot  his 
wounded  pride,  and  grasped  the  outstretched 
hand  and  held  it;  held  it  firmly,  in  spite  of  her 


Cab  No.  44  199 

effort  to  withdraw  it.  He  took  a  step  toward 
her,  and  looked  her  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"Now  listen,  Miss  Ohlstrom.  I  came  up 
here  to  set  myself  straight  with  you,  and  to 
apologize  for  having  deceived  you.  Business 
may  be  business;  but,  dash  it  all!  I  felt  like  a 
beastly  cad  about  lying  to  you  that  way,  and 
then  having  to  come  here  and  send  you  up  a 
false  name.  I  thought  you  would  forgive  me, 
and  that  then  I  might  be  of  some  assistance  to 
you.  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  you  were 
the  sort  of  girl  that  one  had  to  be  sincere  with, 
even  before  I  saw  you;  when  I  first  heard  the 
sound  of  your  voice."  She  got  her  hand  free, 
but  he  went  on:  "I  hated  to  think  that  if  you 
should  ever  meet  me,  or  see  me,  and  find  out 
that  I  was  not  Mr.  Hartley,  that  you  would 
look  upon  me  as  a  lying  cad.  Whether  I  ever 
see  you  again  or  not,  I  want  your  good 
opinion." 

After  a  moment  of  silence  he  continued,  in 
a  tone  of  less  assurance: 

"I  cannot  do  any  more  than  acknowledge  that 
I  did  wrong.  Now  won't  you  forgive  me?" 

Helen  seemed  in  doubt  what  to  say,  but  she 
was  evidently  softening.  On  the  inspiration  of 
the  moment  McBride  said  softly: 

"If  we  were  friends,  we  could  get  to  the  bot- 


2OO  Cab  No.  44 

torn  of  these  lies  about  Mr.  Maxwell.  If  he 
is  anywhere  on  earth,  I  will  find  him  for  you. 
There  is  my  hand  on  it." 

It  was  the  last  speech  that  told.  He  saw 
that.  The  earnestness  of  his  manner — the 
straightforward  honest  look  in  his  face — over- 
came her  hesitation.  She  put  out  her  hand  with 
a  smile,  but  the  grasp  that  he  gave  it  made  her 
flinch. 

Still,  she  did  not  feel  quite  at  ease.  She  was 
sorry  he  had  made  that  avowal  about  liking  her. 
And  then  she  kept  thinking  of  the  possible  re- 
turn of  her  parents.  What  would  they  say  if 
they  found  her  talking  to  this  unknown  man? 
The  more  quickly  she  could  get  rid  of  him  the 
better,  she  thought,  but  she  would  like  to  clear 
up  this  mystery  about  Mr.  Hartley. 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  I  made  no  mistake 
about  the  Mr.  Hartley  that  knew  him,"  she  be- 
gan. "There  is  no  other  George  Hartley  that 
is  president  of  the  Hardware  Trust,  I  sup- 
pose?" McBride  shook  his  head  very  posi- 
tively. "Then  he  knows  both  Mr.  Maxwell 
and  Mr.  Maynard  perfectly.  He  dined  with 
them  several  times  lately.  Of  that  I  am  posi- 
tive." 

"There  must  be  some  mistake." 

"I  cannot  see  how  it  is  possible.     Mr.  Max- 


Cab  No.  44  201 

well  told  me  the  whole  story.  Mr.  Hartley 
and  Mr.  Douglas  were  at  the  dinner " 

"But  Mr.  Douglas  and  Mr.  Hartley  are  not 
friendly.  Mr.  Douglas  caught  Mr.  Hartley  in 
some  stock  transaction  last  year,  and  they  have 
not  spoken  since." 

"There!  Now  I  know  I  am  right;  because 
Mr.  Maxwell  told  me  they  had  had  some  sort 
of  unpleasant  business  relations,  but  it  was  not 
known  to  their  host  until  they  arrived.  It  was 
their  nagging  at  each  other  after  the  dinner  that 
led  to  the  bet,  you  know." 

"What  was  the  bet  about?    Do  you  know?" 

"I  did  not  understand  it  exactly.  That  is, 
I  don't  remember  the  details.  But  some  one 
was  to  rob  a  bank  or  something,  and  then  hide. 
Then  Mr.  Hartley  and  Mr.  Douglas  had  a  bet 
of  some  tremendous  amount  that  the  police 
could  not  find  the  thief." 

"But  did  they  make  the  bet,  or  was  it  all 
talk?" 

"I  think  they  made  the  bet.  It  was  at  Dr. 
Ramie's  dinner  party,  you  know." 

"Dr.  Ramie !"  he  exclaimed.  "Do  you  know 
if  the  bet  was  ten  thousand  dollars?" 

"Yes,  I  think  it  was." 

"Then  you  are  right  about  Mr.  Hartley.  I 
made  out  a  check  for  Dr.  Ramie  for  ten  thou- 


202  Cab  No.  44 

sand  dollars  last  Monday  week.  I  suppose  he 
was  the  stakeholder." 

"But  Mr.  Maxwell  and  Mr.  Maynard  were 
both  at  the  dinner.  What  is  Mr.  Hartley's 
object  in  saying  he  does  not  know  either  of 
them?"  she  asked.  "They  dined  together  again 
after  that.  Why  does  he  deny  the  acquaintance? 
Is  it  because  I  am  the  person  that  wants  the 
information,  I  wonder?  I  suppose  he  heard  my 
name  that  day  at  the  office." 

"Why  should  the  information  be  concealed 
'from  you  particularly?" 

Helen  blushed  and  looked  confused.  She 
did  not  like  to  give  form  to  the  thought  that 
was  passing  through  her  mind.  If  Hardy  Max- 
well were  unfaithful;  if  it  were  his  intention 
never  to  see  her  again,  perhaps  he  had  asked 

his  friends But  no!     She  could  not  thinlc 

such  a  thing  of  him.  She  looked  up  at  McBride, 
who  was  evidently  awaiting  an  answer  to  his 
last  question. 

"You  see,"  she  faltered,  looking  down  and 
turning  her  face  away  slightly,  "I  think  I  have 
a  right  to  know  what  has  happened  to  Mr.  Max- 
well, because — because  he  and  I " 

She  stopped  and  blushed  slightly,  as  if  un- 
willing to  finish  the  sentence.  It  was  quite  un- 
necessary. He  divined  what  she  was  loath  to 


Cab  No.  44  203 

say.  She  was  engaged,  and  all  those  rosy 
dreams  of  his  were  vain. 

She  read  his  thoughts,  and  the  uneasiness 
of  a  few  minutes  before  returned.  "If  I  was 
not  singled  out,"  she  demanded,  "why  does  Mr. 
Hartley  deny  his  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Max- 
well?" 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Maxwell  is  not  a  desirable 
person  to  know." 

She  drew  herself  up  like  a  flash.  "I  wish 
you  to  understand,  sir,  that  Mr.  Maxwell  came 
here  with  the  best  of  introductions,  from  my 
uncle,  and  that  I  shall  not  permit  you  to  asperse 
his  character." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  humbly,  see- 
ing his  mistake.  "You  see — you  know.  I  can- 
not think  of  any  other  reason.  Please  don't 
get  angry  with  me.  Let  me  talk  the  matter  over 
with  Mr.  Hartley.  I  will  find  out  the  truth 
about  the  matter  to-morrow.  Then  won't  you 
let  me  call  and  tell  you  what  I  learn?" 

"I  should  much  prefer  that  you  would  write. 
I  do  not  like  the  idea  of  your  coming  here  when 
you  are  not  an  acquaintance." 

He  did  not  seem  to  relish  the  tone  in  which 
this  was  said.  It  conveyed  no  wish  that  he  were 
an  acquaintance.  Both  stood  for  a  moment  or 
two  looking  at  nothing;  both  thinking  of  the 


2O4  Cab  No.  44 

same  thing — some  excuse  for  another  meeting. 
He  to  continue  the  acquaintance,  she  to  gain 
further  information  about  her  absent  lover. 

"I  have  it!"  he  exclaimed,  at  last.  "Won't 
you  let  me  send  you  tickets  for  ladies'  day  at 
the  Athletic  Club?  I  am  one  of  the  reception 
committee,  you  know.  It  is  on  Tuesday  after- 
noon. There  might  be  some  mutual  friend 
there  to  introduce  us." 

"I  do  not  like  the  idea  of  making  such  an 
appointment  with  a  stranger,"  she  said  hesi- 
tatingly, "but  I  am  really  very  curious  to  hear 
Mr.  Hartley's  explanation." 

"I  will  send  the  tickets  to-night.  The  mo- 
ment I  get  home,"  he  urged  hastily.  "Please 
try  to  come.  I  will  have  news  for  you.  We 
will  find  him.  You  know  I  have  promised  you 
that,"  and  without  trusting  himself  to  say  any- 
thing further,  he  took  his  leave. 


MR.  HARTLEY  called  up  Dr.  Ramie 
next  day  and  asked  him  to  dine  at 
Green's  that  evening.  "It's  about 
as  convenient  a  place  as  any,"  Hartley  said. 
"I'm  going  to  bring  Groscup  with  me.  Doug- 
las'  lawyer,  you  know.  We  want  to  talk  over 
things  with  you.  I'm  getting  sick  of  this  busi- 
ness about  that  bet.  It's  getting  on  my  nerves." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  now?  I  thought 
the  whole  thing  had  blown  over  nicely." 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  over  the  telephone. 
But  I  got  another  shock  to-day,  that  shows  me 
the  whole  town  is  getting  on  to  it.  The  only 
ones  that  are  asleep  on  the  job  are  the  police. 
Come  to-night  at  eight,  and  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it." 

That  things  were  getting  on  Hartley's  nerves 
was  very  evident  from  his  conduct  that  evening. 
Nothing  in  the  place  or  on  the  bill  of  fare  suited 
him,  and  he  seemed  inclined  to  fly  into  a  rage 
about  the  merest  trifles.  Seeing  there  was  no 
mustard  on  the  table,  he  called  to  a  waiter  who 
was  leisurely  folding  napkins  at  the  other  end 
205 


206  Cab  No.  44 

of  the  room:  "Bring  me  some  mustard  here, 
will  you?" 

The  waiter  drew  himself  up  and  turned  his 
impassive  face  in  their  direction.  "Ze  waiter, 
he  come  quick,"  was  all  he  said. 

"I  don't  want  a  waiter,  I  want  mustard. 
There  it  is  on  the  table  beside  you."  He  rose 
as  if  to  get  it  himself,  when  the  waiter  entered 
with  a  tray.  Mr.  Hartley  turned  on  him. 
"What's  the  matter  with  this  restaurant 
lately?  Your  waiters  all  dummies?"  The  waiter 
was  very  sorry.  He  tried  to  pacify  Mr.  Hart- 
ley. That  tall  fellow  was  only  an  omnibus,  he 
said,  and  was  not  allowed  to  wait  on  the  table. 

Then  Mr.  Hartley  knocked  over  his  wine 
glass,  which  he  regarded  as  a  bad  omen,  and 
tried  to  blame  the  waiter  for  it.  The  poor 
waiter  assured  him  that  it  was  not  unlucky. 
"Some  gentlemen,  they  break  champagne  glasses 
for  luck,"  he  said.  All  these  things  seemed  to 
add  to  Mr.  Hartley's  bad  humor,  until  finally 
the  doctor  said  he  would  have  to  prescribe  for 
him. 

"What  you  want,  Hartley,  is  the  rest  cure. 
You  had  better  go  to  Florida  for  a  week  or 
two." 

Mr.  Groscup  objected.  He  thought  that  the 
matters  Mr.  Hartley  had  come  to  talk  over  re- 


Cab  No.  44  207 

quired  him  to  keep  his  eye  on  the  situation  at 
home,  for  a  few  days  at  least. 

After  a  good  cigar  and  several  glasses  of 
wine,  Hartley  became  a  little  more  mellow,  and 
prepared  to  give  the  doctor  a  history  of  his 
troubles,  Groscup  being  an  attentive  listener. 

"This  business  of  Maxwell's  is  getting  too 
much  for  me,"  he  began. 

"Maxwell?"  interrupted  the  doctor,  raising 
his  eyebrows.  "To  whom  do  you  refer?" 

"I  didn't  mean  Maxwell.  I'm  getting  so 
ratty  I  forget  names."  After  a  moment's  drum- 
ming on  the  table,  as  if  to  recollect  himself,  he 
went  on:  "Fletcher,  I  mean,  of  course.  This 
business  of  Fletcher's  is  getting  to  be  a  night- 
mare." 

"Why,  I  thought  it  was  almost  forgotten; 
by  the  outside  public,  that  is." 

"By  the  public,  perhaps;  but  not  by  other 
people.  That  girl  that  Doremus  was  going  to 

watch "  Hartley  caught  himself  this  time, 

and  took  a  big  swallow  of  wine.  Then  he 
struck  a  match,  although  his  cigar  had  not  gone 
out;  and  having  gained  time  enough  to  collect 
his  thoughts,  he  started  afresh. 

"You  know  this  Maxwell — hang  it  all!  I 
mean  Fletcher — had  a  girl.  Stunner,  upon  my 
word !  Good  taste  in  girls,  he  had.  Well,  this 


208  Cab  No.  44 

girl  was  getting  anxious  about  him,  not  hear- 
ing from  him  for  a  week;  so  down  she  comes 
to  my  office,  if  you  please,  to  inquire.  Why 
she  couldn't  call  you  or  Douglas,  or  some  one 
else,  I  don't  know;  but  of  course  I  am  the  vic- 
tim. I  wasn't  in  at  the  time,  so  she  asked 
James,  my  secretary,  you  know,  what  he  knew 
about  Maxwell — I  mean  Fletcher."  The  doc- 
tor smiled  every  time  Hartley  made  this  slip. 
"So  James  promised  to  get  the  information 
for  me.  Following  Mr.  Groscup's  advice,  I 
said  I  had  never  heard  the  name  even,  and  I 
told  James  not  to  see  her  again  if  she  called. 
This  morning  it  appears,  she  laid  for  him  in 
the  corridor,  so  as  to  catch  him  before  he  got 
into  the  office,  and  wanted  to  know  whether  he 
had  that  address  for  her  or  not.  James  says 
he  told  her  I  didn't  know  any  such  people  as 
Maynard  or  Maxwell,  and  she  went  into  tan- 
trums at  once  and  told  him  the  whole  story 
about  the  dinner,  and  the  bet,  and  gave  him  all 
our  names  and  everything,  pat.  Of  course  I  had 
a  scene  with  James.  I  lied  about  it  as  long  as 
I  could;  but  he  had  me  dead  on  the  check  I 
sent  you,  doctor.  I  was  so  afraid  of  making  a 
slip  that  I  thought  it  best  to  put  him  off  with  a 
promise  to  explain  things  to-morrow,  so  that  I 
could  sec  you  and  get  some  advice  from  Gros- 


Cab  No.  44  209 

cup  in  the  meantime.  I  want  to  know  what  to 
do.  I  have  been  very  careful  not  to  give  my- 
self away  so  far,  you  know." 

Groscup  and  the  doctor  looked  at  each  other 
and  laughed.  Hartley  seemed  annoyed. 
"What's  wrong  now?"  he  queried. 

"Well,"  remarked  the  lawyer  dryly,  "you 
have  called  Fletcher  'Maxwell'  about  six  times 
this  evening,  and  it  is  very  evident  that  the  name 
'Maxwell'  is  more  prominently  in  your  mind 
than  Fletcher.  As  I  told  you  the  other  day, 
Hartley,  nothing  is  so  difficult  to  conceal  as 
guilty  knowledge  of  facts  when  one  is  obliged 
to  talk  about  them.  Would  you  mind  telling 
us  where  you  got  the  name  Maxwell?" 

"That's  the  name  he  gave  the  girl." 

"And  this  Doremus  you  mentioned  a  while 
ago.  1  think  you  said  he  was  going  to  watch 
her.  Who  is  he?" 

Mr.  Hartley's  wits  were  not  ready  for  that  ex- 
planation immediately.  His  confusion  was  very 
evident;  but  he  made  an  effort.  "Why,  the  girl 
told  James  that  she  was  being  shadowed,  and 
that  a  man  named  Doremus  was  trying  to  get 
acquainted  with  her." 

"I  do  not  want  to  cross-examine  you  now, 
Mr.  Hartley,"  remarked  the  lawyer  quietly,  "but 
I  think  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  be  perfectly 


2io  Cab  No.  44 

frank  with  us.  You  may  remember  that  I  told 
you  hesitation  in  giving  an  answer  is  a  sure  sign 
that  something  is  being  held  back,  or  that  the 
answer  has  been  framed  to  avoid  the  truth.  I 
should  like  to  know  where  to  find  this  man 
Doremus,  and  also  to  have  the  name  and  ad- 
dress of  the  girl.  If  this  matter  comes  into 
court,  we  should  know  all  the  facts." 

"Oh,  hang  Doremus  and  the  girl";  pouring 
out  another  glass  of  wine;  "I'm  sick  of  the 
whole  business.  I  want  to  know  if  there  is  not 
some  way  to  clear  the  whole  thing  up.  Why 
can't  we  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  tell  the 
police  all  we  know  and  have  that  fellow  caught 
and  tried?  We  haven't  done  anything  wrong. 
I  am  sick  of  all  this  worry." 

"No  one  seems  to  be  worrying  about  it  but 
yourself,  Mr.  Hartley,"  remarked  the  doctor. 
"I  have  no  bother.  Douglas  is  enjoying  him- 
self." 

"Yes,"  put  in  Groscup;  "I  was  thinking  of 
cabling  to  Douglas  to  come  home  as  soon  as 
he  pleased.  I  thought  the  whole  thing  had 
blown  over;  but  this  puts  a  new  aspect  on  the 
case.  The  first  thing  we  know,  that  girl  will 
be  going  to  the  police  and  asking  them  to  find 
'Maxwell,'  as  she  calls  him.  That  is,  if  she  is 


Cab  No.  44  '211 

sufficiently  interested  in  him.  Where  did  he 
pick  her  up,  I  wonder?" 

"Brought  letters  to  her  family  from  the  old 
country,  James  says.  But  they're  forgeries,  of 
course.  That's  one  of  the  dodges  of  that  Ard- 
more  gang,  you  know.  They  always  get  good 
introductions  to  some  woman  to  use  as  a  tool 
to  circulate  their  counterfeits." 

"And  pray  what  has  the  Ardmore  gang  to 
do  with  this  case?"  demanded  the  lawyer,  evi- 
dently astonished  at  the  connection  of  ideas. 

"Oh,  nothing!"  said  Hartley  quickly,  taking 
another  swallow  of  wine.  "I  just  happened  to 
think  it  was  probably  a  common  dodge  among 
criminals,  and  having  heard  the  Ardmore  gang 
used  it,  probably  Maxwell  used  it." 

"But  Maxwell  is  not  a  criminal,  if  he  is 
Fletcher." 

"No,  that's  so.  But  of  course  he  reads  the 
papers ;  and  he  probably  read  that  the  Ardmore 
gang  used  that  trick  to  get  acquainted  with  nice 
girls." 

"That  would  mean  that  he  forged  letters; 
and  it  would  also  prove  him  to  be  the  origina- 
tor, not  the  imitator;  because  he  must  have 
been  acquainted  with  her  long  before  the  Ard- 
more gang  got  into  the  papers.  I  don't  quite 
see  the  connection";  and  the  lawyer  looked  at 


212  Cab  No.  44 

the  doctor,  who  was  simply  smiling  to  himself 
and  apparently  enjoying  the  confusion  into 
which  Hartley  was  plunged. 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Hartley  suddenly,  "let's 
cut  that  all  out!  We're  wasting  time.  What 
I  want  to  know  is,  why  we  can't  go  to  the  police 
with  the  whole  story  and  sleep  nights." 

Groscup  smiled.  "The  first  step  they  would 
take  would  be  to  put  the  whole  lot  of  you  in 
jail,  and  to  institute  extradition  proceedings  for 
my  client,  Mr.  Douglas.  You  gentlemen  would 
be  obliged  to  confess  that  you  deliberately  insti- 
gated Fletcher  to  rob  Maynard;  hired  him,  in 
fact,  as  you  promised  to  pay  him  for  the  job. 
While  I  have  my  own  theory  of  the  truth  of 
the  case,  the  police  theory  would  probably  be 
that  there  were  some  hitch  in  carrying  out  the 
original  plan  of  the  robbery,  and  that  Fletcher 
was  determined  to  have  the  money,  and  did  not 
stop  at  violence.  After  you  had  all  been  put 
through  the  third  degree  to  find  out  what  you 
knew  about  Fletcher's  antecedents,  this  girl 
you  speak  of  would  be  arrested,  and  you  would 
probably  lie  in  jail  until  her  letters  of  introduc- 
tion were  traced.  I  am  very  much  afraid, 
Mr.  Hartley,  if  what  you  tell  us  is  true,  that  the 
police  will  be  informed  quickly  enough  without 
your  hurrying  matters.  It  seems  to  me  that  the 


Cab  No.  44  213 

first  step  should  be  to  see  that  young  lady  and 
muzzle  her,  regardless  of  expense.  Have  you 
any  idea  of  her  class?  Would  money  be  an 
object?" 

Mr.  Hartley  was  too  dazed  by  the  lawyer's 
portrayal  of  the  possible  consequences  of  recent 
events  to  answer.  The  doctor  repeated  the 
question. 

"The  girl!  Oh,  she's  a  stunner  1  James  is 
quite  gone  on  her.  Miss  Ohlstrom  is  the  name 
she  gave;  probably  false.  Have  no  idea  where 
she  lives,  though.  Johnson  knows  all  about 
that." 

"And  pray  who  is  Johnson?" 

Hartley  had  to  take  a  long  pull  at  the  wine 
before  he  could  answer  this  question.  "Well, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  boys — of  course  this  is 
sub  rosa?  because  I'm  a  married  man,  you 
know — but  I  took  quite  a  fancy  to  the  young 
lady  myself.  Stunning  figure,  you  know,  and  all 
that.  So  I  just  had  one  of  the  men  in  the  office, 
Johnson,  follow  her  home  to  see  where  she  lived 
and  find  out  what  she  was" ;  and  he  winked  at 
them  knowingly. 

"When  was  this?" 

"The  first  time  she  came  to  the  office." 

"And  what  did  Johnson  discover?" 

"He  has  the  name  and  address  all  right,  I 


214  Cab  No.  44 

believe.  Fact  is,  I  didn't  ask  him  about  it  par- 
ticularly, not  being  in  the  humor  for  that  sort 
of  adventure  just  at  present." 

"Would  you  mind  sending  Johnson  round  to 
my  office  the  first  thing  in  the  morning?" 

"Certainly,"  was  the  prompt  response,  Hart- 
ley making  up  his  mind  that  he  could  telephone 
that  Johnson  had  not  come  down  yet,  or  was 
sick,  or  had  resigned,  or  something.  He  would 
have  some  excuse  before  the  morning. 

The  waiter  put  his  head  in  the  door  to  say 
that  Mr.  Hartley's  carriage  was  waiting. 

"Then  there's  nothing  for  it  but  to  keep 
mum,"  he  remarked,  standing  up  as  if  to  go. 

"And  to  keep  other  people  mum,  which  is 
much  more  important  now.  It  seems  to  me  that 
everything  depends  on  this  Miss  Ohlstrom. 
Women  are  awful  tattlers." 

"Looks  that  way  to  me,"  remarked  the  doc- 
tor, rather  ambiguously. 

"Well,  I'm  off.  Good-night,"  and  Hartley 
moved  toward  the  door.  "I  suppose  the  best 
thing  I  can  tell  James  to-morrow  is,  that  I  met 
Maxwell  so  seldom  that  I  had  forgotten  the 
name,  and  that  I  don't  know  anything  about 
him." 

"As  you  never  met  Maxwell  as  Maxwell, 
why  not  say  you  never  heard  of  him,  and  stick 


Cab  No.  44  215 

to  it?  But  don't  forget  Johnson  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,  and  be  sure  he  has  that  address 
with  him,"  were  Groscup's  parting  words. 

After  the  sound  of  the  retreating  steps  on 
the  stairs  had  ceased,  the  lawyer  closed  the  door. 
The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed. 

"Awful  liar,"  was  the  lawyer's  comment. 
"But  he  knows  more  than  he  tells.  Nasty  com- 
plication, that  girl.  She  is  probably  stuck  on 
Fletcher,  and  women  are  awfully  hard  to  man- 
age when  they  think  any  one  is  trying  to  keep 
them  from  their  lovers.  She  will  have  the 
whole  detective  squad  about  our  ears  in  twenty- 
four  hours  if  we  don't  head  her  off.  All  that  is 
keeping  her  back  now  is  waiting  for  informa- 
tion from  Mr.  Hartley's  clerk." 

"Looks  that  way,"  said  the  doctor,  knocking 
the  ashes  from  his  cigar.  He  did  not  seem  par- 
ticularly worried  about  the  matter.  "None  of 
my  funeral,  though,  I  suppose,"  he  continued, 
"unless  the  stakeholder  is  an  accessory  before 
the  fact,  as  you  call  it." 

"You  certainly  have  a  guilty  knowledge  of 
the  facts." 

"I  also  have  a  knowledge  of  the  fact  that 
Fletcher  is  not  suspected  of  anything  yet.  I 
listened  to  all  that  was  said  here  to-night,  and 
I  infer  that  his  friend  Miss  Ohlstrom  cannot 


216  Cab  No.  44 

have  been  aware  that  it  was  he  that  was  to  com- 
mit the  robbery,  or  she  would  also  know  that 
he  was  to  hide  himself.  That  is  clear,  is  it 
not?" 

"Now  you  are  talking,  doctor.  You  are  a 
charming  contrast  to  Hartley,  who  evidently 
feels  guilty  about  something  that  we  do  not 
understand.  He  is  scared  to  death." 

"I  cannot  see,"  continued  the  doctor,  "why 
we  should  trouble  ourselves  about  Miss  Ohl- 
strom.  The  most  she  could  do  is  to  tell  the 
police  that  a  friend  of  hers,  named  Maxwell, 
is  missing.  As  she  is  the  only  person,  appar- 
ently, that  knew  him  by  that  name,  I  would 
not  give  much  for  the  clue.  Still,  I  should  like 
to  know  who  she  is.  I  never  heard  Fletcher 
mention  any  women  friends.  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain: he  has  cut  her  out  since  last  Thursday 
night." 

"It  seems  strange  that  he  could  leave  her 
without  a  word  of  explanation,  or  excuse,  and 
without  writing  her  a  line,  if  she  thought 
enough  of  him  to  hunt  him  up  by  going  to 
strange  men's  offices.  Makes  me  think  she's 
not  much  good.  Probably  some  girl  he  picked 
up  that  he  did  not  care  to  mention  to  his 
friends." 

"How  about  the  letters  of  introduction?" 


Cab  No.  44  217 

"I  think  they  are  about  as  mythical  as  some 
other  parts  of  Mr.  Hartley's  testimony.  But 
when  I  get  hold  of  Johnson,  I  will  investigate 
the  young  lady  for  myself.  There  may  be  some- 
thing in  it." 


THE  more  Hartley  thought  over  what 
the  lawyer  had  said,  the  more  frigh- 
tened he  became.  He  was  so  fearful 
that  Miss  Ohlstrom  would  send  out  a  general 
alarm  that  he  could  not  wait  until  morning,  but 
sent  a  telegram  that  night,  demanding  John- 
son's presence  at  nine  the  next  day. 

Johnson  was  on  hand  promptly,  and  they 
went  into  the  sanctum  and  shut  the  sound-proof 
door  behind  them. 

"How  is  Doremus  getting  along?"  was  the 
first  question. 

"Pretty  slow  job,  that,  sir,"  said  Johnson, 
apologetically,  twisting  his  slouch  hat  in  his 
hands.  "Expects  to  meet  her  to-morrow, 
though.  The  young  lady  doesn't  seem  to  have 
any  friends  in  particular,  and  never  goes  to  no 
balls  nor  public  things  like  that,  you  know, 
where  a  man  could  catch  on.  It's  hard  to  work 
that  quiet  respectable  kind.  Personal  introduc- 
tion is  the  caper,  but  that  takes  time." 

"Seems  to  me  that  a  stunning  girl  like  that 
ought  to  have  lots  of  friends.  She's  built  like 
218 


Cab  No.  44  219 

a  statue,  from  the  ground  up,  and  a  face  like  a 
picture." 

"And  may  I  ask  where  you  seen  her,  sir?" 

Hartley  started.  At  first  he  was  going  to 
deny  ever  having  seen  her,  and  insist  that  he 
was  only  repeating  Johnson's  own  description 
of  her.  On  second  thoughts,  after  a  glance  at 
the  detective's  face,  he  concluded  that  would  be 
useless. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Johnson,  that's  why  I 
sent  for  you.  She  was  here  the  other  day." 

"Oh,  she  was,  was  she!     And  what  for?" 

"She  came  to  ask  if  I  knew  anything  about 
Maxwell's  whereabouts.  She  seems  to  have 
known  Fletcher  as  Maxwell.  That's  another 
clue  for  you  to  work  on." 

"It  seems  to  me,  sir,  asking  your  pardon, 
that  it's  a  much  more  important  clue  that  she 
must  have  known  that  you  knew  Fletcher,  or 
she  wouldn't  come  here." 

Hartley  was  simply  speechless.  He  was  try- 
ing to  pull  some  smoke  from  a  cigar  that  had 
not  been  lighted  yet.  Johnson  suggested  the 
use  of  a  match. 

"If  you  knows  this  Fletcher,  sir,  or  did  know 
him,  you  could  give  us  some  very  useful  infor- 
mation; instead  of  letting  us  hunt  round  in  the 
dark  this  way.  I  kind  of  thought  once  before, 


220  Cab  No.  44 

sir,  that  maybe  he  had  tried  to  pass  some  notes 
on  you,  or  something  like  that.  If  you  wouldn't 
mind  telling  why  you  want  him  so-  bad,  it  ought 
to  help  a  lot." 

Hartley  did  not  avail  himself  of  the  sug- 
gested excuse.  He  wanted  time  to  think  about 
it.  "To-morrow,  Johnson,  or  the  next  day  per- 
haps, I  shall  be  in  a  position  to  tell  you  all 
about  it;  but  in  the  meantime,  I  can't.  All  I 
wanted  you  for  was  to  keep  track  of  that  fel- 
low. I'm  sorry  you  made  a  botch  of  it.  But 
what  I  want  now,  more  than  anything  else," 
stopping  for  a  moment  to  pull  at  his  cigar  and 
to  think  how  he  should  put  the  matter,  "what 
I  want  now,  more  than  anything  else,  is  to  get 
Doremus  and  that  girl  together.  Now,  if  you 
will  give  me  her  address,  I  will  guarantee  to 
have  a  letter  of  introduction  to  her  for  Dore- 
mus three  days  from  now.  Call  for  it  at  this 
office." 

"Suits  me  exactly,  sir."  Pulling  out  a  dingy 
little  note-book  and  thumbing  over  the  leaves, 
he  added:  "Here  it  is,  sir.  I'll  copy  it  for 
you." 

Hartley  took  the  slip  of  paper  and  glanced 
at  it.  "Miss  Stewart!  I  thought  so.  The 
name  she  gave  here  was  a  fake,  of  course." 

"Stewart's  the  name  your  man  had    at   the 


Cab  No.  44  221 

first  hotel  he  went  to,  you  remember,  sir.  What 
did  she  call  herself  here,  sir?" 

"Oh,  it  doesn't  matter." 

"But  it  may  be  useful,  sir.  If  we  know  a 
person  has  used  a  false  name,  it's  often  handy 
to  be  able  to  spring  it  on  them,  sir." 

"Well,  she  called  herself  Perkins  here." 
Hartley  could  not  see  why  he  should  give  the 
right  name,  especially  as  the  plan  then  form- 
ing in  his  mind  contemplated  cutting  Johnson 
out  of  the  whole  affair  at  the  first  opportunity. 

"Come  here  on  Friday,"  he  said  at  parting. 
If  I  am  not  in,  see  my  man  McBride,  and  ask 
him  for  a  letter  for  you." 

Johnson  bowed  himself  out. 

"James!" 

McBride  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  sanc- 
tum. "Send  this,"  sealing  the  name  and  ad- 
dress in  an  envelope,  after  having  scribbled 
upon  it.  "This  is  the  girl's  right  name  and  her 
address.  Johnson  is  sick." 

"Send  this  over  to  Mr.  Groscup's  office  at 
once,"  he  directed.  "No  answer.  And,  James, 
I  leave  you  in  charge  here  after  to-day.  I  am 
going  to  Florida  by  to-night's  train.  Get  me  a 
section  when  you  go  to  luncheon ;  but  not  a  word 
to  a  soul  about  it,  remember.  I  shall  not  go 
to  the  same  hotel  this  time.  I  will  advise  you 


222  Cab  No.  44 

where  to  send  letters.  If  any  one  comes  and 
asks  any  questions,  put  them  off.  Tell  them  any- 
thing you  like.  Don't  bother  me  with  it." 

In  less  than  an  hour  after  getting  from  Hart- 
ley the  name  and  address,  Groscup  had  sent 
one  of  his  clever  young  men,  an  experienced 
process-server,  to  spy  out  the  land.  He  had 
gone  in  the  role  of  an  agent  for  a  photograph 
gallery,  and  had  "made  himself  solid,"  as  he 
expressed  it,  with  the  servant  girl. 

The  address  given  was  a  boarding  house,  not 
particularly  fashionable,  but  of  the  better  class. 
Miss  Stewart  was  not  at  home.  Upon  a 
promise  to  give  the  maid  a  bromide  enlarge- 
ment of  a  picture  of  herself  for  nothing,  she 
had  engaged  herself  to  interest  Miss  Stewart 
in  the  matter.  Miss  Stewart  was  very  fine-look- 
ing, and  would  make  a  splendid  picture.  She 
had  a  small  one  in  her  room  now.  Could  the 
agent  see  it;  just  for  a  moment?  The  girl  ran 
and  got  it,  and  the  agent  had  a  good  look  at  it. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  catch  Miss  Stewart  at 
home,  the  servant  said,  because  she  was  out  a 
great  deal.  She  dined  every  evening  at  a  cafe 
on  Second  Avenue,  because  she  liked  the  music. 
That  was  all  the  clerk  could  find  out. 

Upon  the  clerk's  assurance  that  he  could 
recognize  her  by  her  picture,  Groscup  took  him 


Cab  No.  44  223 

up  to  the  cafe  that  evening.  After  he  had  hung 
up  his  coat,  the  lawyer  went  to  the  head-waiter 
and  handed  him  a  ten-dollar  bill,  telling  him 
he  wished  to  be  seated  at  the  same  table  with  a 
certain  lady  as  soon  as  she  came  in.  The  waiter 
promised  to  reserve  a  table  for  them,  and  went 
to  do  so.  The  two  men  sat  in  a  little  reception 
room  off  the  hall,  and  as  soon  as  Miss  Stewart 
came  up  the  stairs  the  clerk  recognized  her. 
She  was  tall,  apparently  between  twenty-five  and 
thirty,  with  a  striking  face  that  had  almost  too 
much  character  in  it  to  be  beautiful,  and  a  figure 
which  the  clerk  said  would  vex  a  saint. 

As  soon  as  he  had  pointed  her  out,  the  clerk 
left  the  place,  and  the  lawyer  indicated  to  the 
head-waiter  that  that  was  the  lady  he  meant. 
The  waiter  smiled.  "You  arc  not  the  first,  sir, 
on  that  lay;  not  by  no  means,"  he  said.  "But 
I  tell  you,  sir,"  coming  close  enough  to  whisper, 
"it's  no  go,  sir.  She's  as  straight  as  a  string. 
She  used  to  come  here  with  a  handsome  young 
fellow;  black  mustache  and  Vandyke.  I  think 
they  are  married." 

"Perhaps  they  were  lovers,"  ventured  the 
lawyer. 

"No,  sir.  We  know  them.  When  lovers 
have  had  a  good  dinner  together,  the  man  al- 
ways slobbers  over  the  girl  a  bit,  and  pats  her 


224  Cab  No.  44 

as  he  helps  her  on  with  her  coat  and  all  that, 
sir.  There  was  none  of  that  about  them.  I 
judge  they  were  about  five  years  married,  and 
well  suited  to  each  other.  A  fine-looking  couple, 
sir.  But  I  haven't  seen  him  for  a  couple  of 
weeks.  I  think  I  could  take  you  to  that  table 
now,  sir.  You  see,  I  have  been  careful  to  fill 
all  the  others  near  it,  so  that  it  will  look  more 
natural." 

Groscup  bowed,  Continental  fashion,  on  tak- 
ing his  seat.  The  young  woman  smiled  in  re- 
turn and  seemed  not  averse  to  a  little  conversa- 
tion, the  opening  selection  of  the  orchestra  fur- 
nishing the  excuse.  Her  accent  was  decidedly 
English,  and  her  voice  was  particularly  sweet 
and  low.  She  ate  with  the  fastidious  ease  of  a 
thoroughly  well-bred  woman.  Groscup  felt 
rather  guilty  as  he  became  conscious  of  the  fact 
that  they  were  very  much  observed  by  the  other 
diners. 

Would  she  share  a  bottle  of  wine  with  him? 
With  pleasure.  Groscup  felt  that  he  was  get- 
ting along  famously.  She  was  in  no  hurry,  ap- 
parently, and  begged  him  to  smoke. 

"I  used  to  smoke  cigarettes  at  dinner  when  I 
was  in  Russia,"  she  said,  "but  it  does  not  seem 
to  be  the  thing  in  this  country.  We  do  it  in 
England  in  private  houses,  you  know." 


Cab  No.  44  22$ 

This  seemed  to  open  the  way  for  some  chat 
about  travel  and  about  the  people  one  meets. 
Groscup  managed  to  mention  Mr.  Frank  Doug- 
las, who  was  then  abroad  and  enjoying  himself 
immensely.  He  watched  her  closely  as  he  men- 
tioned the  name,  but  her  face  gave  no  sign.  He 
managed  to  twist  the  conversation  round  in 
such  a  manner  that  he  was  able  to  bring  in  the 
names  of  every  person  connected  with  the 
affair  which  was  uppermost  in  his  thoughts. 
He  even  hinted  at  the  story  of  the  bet  at  the 
dinner.  He  tried  every  artifice  known  to  the 
expert  cross-examiner,  hoping  to  trap  his  fair 
companion  into  a  remark,  a  look,  a  recognition, 
a  question  that  would  betray  further  interest. 

It  was  useless. 

He  realized  that  he  was  talking  to  a  charm- 
ing woman,  with  a  wide  knowledge  of  the  world 
and  its  affairs,  but  who  knew  how  to  keep  her 
own  counsel.  She  did  not  offer  to  give  him  her 
name,  although  he  mentioned  his  own  several 
times.  When  he  finally  assisted  her  to  put  on 
her  wrap,  and  handed  her  into  a  cab,  after  she 
had  positively  declined  his  offer  to  see  her  home 
and  had  skillfully  parried  all  his  hints  about 
meeting  her  again,  he  lit  another  cigar,  and 
went  back  to  his  table  to  think  it  over. 
\  She  was  either  a  consummate  actor,  or  else 


226  Cab  No.  44 

she  had  never  heard  any  such  names  in  her  life 
as  Maynard,  or  Milton  Fletcher,  or  Maxwell, 
or  James  Walton,  or  George  Hartley,  or  Frank 
Douglas,  or  Dr.  Ramie.  Of  one  thing  Gros- 
cup  was  quite  satisfied.  She  had  not  the  slightest 
interest  in  learning  the  present  whereabouts  of 
Maxwell. 

The  head-waiter  stepped  up  to  the  table  as 
the  lawyer  sat  smoking,  and  made  some  pre- 
tense of  arranging  the  glasses.  He  hoped  the 
gentleman  had  enjoyed  the  evening.  He  had; 
very  much.  Thinking  that  he  might  have  oc- 
casion to  use  the  same  privilege  again,  he  pulled 
out  another  bill  and  slipped  it  into  the  waiter's 
hand.  The  tip  seemed  to  inspire  its  recipient 
with  a  desire  to  do  something  more  for  him. 

"I  saw  you  were  getting  along  all  right,  sir," 
he  said.  "Other  gentlemen  have  tried  it  and 
had  a  good  time  for  one  evening,  sir.  Of 
course,  you  know,  sir,  we  have  all  sorts  of  queer 
people  come  in  here.  Some  we  can  size  up 
quick;  others  is  too  deep  for  us,  sir.  She's  the 
best  looker  we've  had  in  here  this  winter.  I 
thought  I  was  on  one  night,  sir,  when  the  in- 
spector came  in  here  in  plain  clothes  and  took 
a  place  where  he  could  size  her  up.  He  didn't 
$ay  anything  to  me  about  that  being  what  he 
SKas  after;  but  I  could  see  he  was  mugging  her 


Cab  No.  44  227 

all  the  time  he  was  eating  his  dinner.  I  thought 
perhaps  she  belonged  to  some  gang,  smugglers 
perhaps.  They're  all  good-lookers.  Then  he 
went  out  in  the  cloak  room,  and  felt  around 
until  he  found  a  loaded  revolver  in  a  heavy 
winter  coat.  I  saw  him  take  a  peep  at  it  and 
smile  to  himself.  Then  he  put  a  man  to  watch 
who  handed  in  the  check  for  that  coat,  sir.  Yes, 
sir.  We  have  queer  people  come  in  here." 

"I  suppose  it  was  her  coat?" 

"Sure!" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WHEN  Helen  Ohlstrom  mounted  the 
steps  of  the  clubhouse  on  Tuesday 
afternoon,  she  was  alone.  At  the 
door  she  met  one  of  her  father's  old  friends, 
whom  she  had  heard  boast  about  his  athletic 
prowess  in  the  days  before  there  were  any 
athletic  clubs  in  America.  He  wore  the  badge 
of  the  reception  committee,  and  seemed  very 
glad  to  see  her.  He  asked  her  if  she  had  ever 
been  there  before,  and  assumed  the  respon- 
sibility of  helping  her  to  enjoy  the  afternoon. 

"We  must  get  some  nice  young  fellow  to 
show  you  round.  Let  me  see,"  glancing  behind 
him.  "There's  McBride  talking  to  those  girls 
in  pink.  He  has  been  standing  here  for  an 
hour.  Said  he  expected  some  one.  Wait  until 
he  comes  back  and  I'll  introduce  you.  He's  a 
fine  fellow;  one  of  the  nicest  chaps  in  the  club. 
I've  known  his  family  for  years.  Here  he 
comes." 

The    old    gentleman  must  have  been  pretty 

blind  not  to  see  that  the  girl  he  was  talking  to 

was  the  person  for  whom  McBride  had  been 

watching  for  more  than  an  hour.     But  he  did 

228 


Cab  No.  44  229 

not,  and  the  young  man  took  the  cue  very 
nicely,  and  acted  as  if  he  had  never  seen  the 
young  lady  before  in  his  life. 

"This  is  James  McBride,  Miss  Ohlstrom. 
Let  me  present  our  coming  quarter-mile  cham- 
pion and  the  future  president  of  the  club." 
Then  slapping  McBride  on  the  back,  he  added : 
"Show  her  around,  Jim."  As  they  walked  off, 
he  said  to  a  friend  standing  by:  "That's  the 
best-looking  pair  in  the  house  to-day." 

McBride  took  Helen  all  over  the  building, 
and  asked  her  if  there  was  anything  on  the 
program  that  she  cared  to  see.  He  told  her  the 
swimming  tank  was  "beastly  hot  and  stuffy" 
on  visitors'  days,  and  suggested  that  they  go  up 
to  the  library,  where  they  could  have  a  little 
chat  in  one  of  the  large  windows  and  would  not 
be  likely  to  be  overheard. 

When  the  girl  was  seated  in  the  embrasure 
of  the  window  he  did  not  seem  to  know  ex- 
actly how  to  begin,  but  her  manner  betrayed 
that  she  was  very  impatient  to  hear  what  he 
had  to  say  about  the  matter  nearest  her  heart. 

"You  know  I  had  an  awful  row  with  the 
governor  at  the  office  yesterday  morning.  I 
couldn't  tell  him  that  I  had  called  on  you,  you 
know,  so  I  told  him  you  met  me  in  the  corri- 
dor," McBride  began  awkwardly.  She  frowned 


230  Cab  No.  44 

a  little  at  this,  so  he  added  quickly:  "You  will 
have  to  forgive  me  for  that,  too.  I  am  getting 
to  be  an  awful  liar  since  I  met  you;  but  that  is 
the  last,  I  hope.  Just  as  an  evidence  that  I  can 
tell  the  truth,  will  you  allow  me  to  say  that  you 
are  looking  perfectly  lovely  to-day?" 

While  she  smiled  slightly  and  thanked  him, 
she  was  clearly  not  in  the  humor  for  compli- 
ments and  avoided  meeting  the  eyes  that  were 
simply  devouring  her.  For  a  moment  she  al- 
most wished  they  were  not  alone  in  the  library. 

"But  what  about  Mr.  Maxwell?"  she  in- 
quired eagerly. 

McBride's  face  changed  at  once.  He  did  not 
seem  to  like  the  subject. 

"I  suppose  1  may  as  well  come  right  out 
with  it,  Miss  Ohlstrom,"  he  answered,  looking 
round  the  room  to  be  sure  that  no  one  had  come 
in.  "The  fact  is" — looking  out  of  the  window 
and  tugging  at  the  blind — "the  fact  is — your 
friend — I  mean  the  gentleman  you  knew  as  Mr. 
Maxwell — is  a  rascal."  Without  looking  at 
her,  he  could  feel  her  tremble  as  she  sank  into 
the  window  cushions.  He  did  not  like  to  look 
at  her.  He  went  on.  "I  persuaded  Mr,  Hart- 
ley that  as  I  was  his  confidential  man,  he  might 
as  well  tell  me  the  whole  truth  as  have  me  find 
it  out  elsewhere,  and  perhaps  get  a  false  im- 


Cab  No.  44  231 

pression.  He  says  your  friend's  name  is  not 
Maxwell  at  all.  That  is  why  you  could  not  get 
any  information  about  him  at  the  club.  They 
knew  him  there  as  Milton  Fletcher.  At  the 
last  hotel  he  stopped  at  his  name  was  James 
Walton,  and  at  the  one  he  went  to  before  he 
was  Milton  Fletcher  his  name  was  Stewart,  and 
goodness  knows  how  many  other  names  he 
had." 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  her  for  a  moment. 
She  was  very  pale.  She  did  not  look  up  when 
he  ceased  speaking.  Her  lips  gradually  com- 
pressed until  they  were  nothing  but  a  thin 
straight  line,  as  she  said  decisively: 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Mr.  Hart- 
ley is  deceiving  you." 

"No,  I  assure  you.  I  went  to  the  club  this 
afternoon  myself,  and  I  found  he  was  known 
there  as  Milton  Fletcher.  I  went  to  the  hotels, 
and  I  found  that  his  name  was  Fletcher  at  one 
and  Walton  at  the  other.  I  promised  to  help 
you,  you  know,"  he  added,  stooping  over  her, 
"and  I  have  done  the  best  I  could  to  find  any 
mistake  on  Mr.  Hartley's  part;  but  I  am  con- 
vinced that  he  is  perfectly  frank  in  the  matter.'* 

She  put  up  her  hand,  as  if  to  keep  him  off, 
and  looked  straight  ahead  out  of  the  window. 
Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears  now.  "You  must 


232  Cab  No.  44 

be  mistaken,"  she  said  very  quietly.  "Mr. 
Maxwell  brought  letters  to  us,  you  know,  from 
an  uncle;  papa's  brother." 

"Mr.  Hartley  told  me  that  I  would  find  out 
he  had  made  your  acquaintance  through  letters." 

"How  on  earth  could  he  know  that,  when  he 
did  not  know  who  Mr.  Maxwell  was,  even?" 
she  said  quickly,  as  if  she  had  found  a  flaw  in 
the  story. 

"He  knows  the  man,  and  he  knows  the  let- 
ters were  forgeries."  She  looked  at  him  be- 
seechingly, but  he  went  straight  on.  "I  may  as 
well  tell  you  the  whole  truth,  and  have  done 
with  it,  Miss  Ohlstrom,  although  I  hate  to  hurt 
your  feelings  in  undeceiving  you.  Mr.  Max- 
well, as  you  call  him,  was  one  of  the  Ardmore 
gang.  The  police  found  in  his  room  at  the 
hotel  some  of  the  baggage  that  they  knew  be- 
longed to  the  gang,  and  they  were  just  going 
to  arrest  him  when  he  ran  away.  Their  busi- 
ness was  passing  bad  bank  notes,  and  it  seems 
that  the  gang  used  innocent  women  as  tools  to 
pass  the  notes.  They  would  pick  out  some 
stylish-looking  girl,  and  one  of  the  best-looking 
of  the  gang,  who  made  a  specialty  of  that  sort 
of  thing,  would  present  forged  letters  to  her 
family.  Then  he  would  make  love  to  her,  and 
usually  persuaded  her  to  run  off  with  him  to 


Cab  No.  44  233 

some  other  country "  She  started  violently, 

and  drew  in  her  underlip  with  a  little  shudder. 
"Once  there,  they  would  force  her  to  pass  off 
their  counterfeits,  and  sometimes " 

He  did  not  go  on.  The  girl  before  him  was 
not  listening.  With  her  face  buried  in  the 
cushions  beside  her  she  was  sobbing  like  a  child. 
He  tiptoed  over  to  the  library  door  and  closed 
it.  Then  he  went  back  to  her.  She  heard  the 
door  close,  and  stood  up  to  meet  him.  Her 
face  was  very  stern.  The  mouth  was  a  thin 
red  line  once  more. 

"Please  send  me  home  at  once,"  she  said. 
"I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  more.  I  don't 
want  ever  to  see  you  again.  No!"  She  put 
out  her  hand  protestingly  as  he  started  toward 
her.  "You  must  forgive  me,  but  I  cannot  bear 
the  sight  of  you.  As  for  Mr.  Hartley,"  she 
added,  her  voice  rising  as  if  in  anger,  "I  don't 
believe  him.  I  won't  believe  him.  It's  all  a 
lie,"  she  almost  shouted,  stamping  her  foot. 
"It's  a  lie  and  a  shame,  and  I  won't  believe  itl 
If  I  believed  that  I  would  kill  myself.  It's  a 
lie,  I  say.  A  LIE!" 

"But,  my  dear  Miss  Ohlstrom,"  he  gasped, 
quite  carried  off  his  feet  by  this  sudden  out- 
burst of  passion. 

"I  don't  care  what  you  say.    I  don't  believe 


234  £ab  No.  44 


it.  I'll  wait  until  I  see  him,  if  it's  fifty  years. 
Oh,  why  doesn't  he  come  back  and  deny  these 
dreadful  stories!"  She  fell  back  into  the  win- 
dow cushions  again,  and  burst  into  hysterical 
tears. 

McBride  was  completely  dumbfounded.  He 
could  not  imagine  what  to  do.  If  any  one 
should  come  into  the  library  and  find  him  stand- 
ing over  a  pretty  girl  in  hysterics,  he  would 
never  hear  the  end  of  it.  The  only  thing  he 
could  think  of  was  to  call  one  of  the  women 
servants  and  tell  her  that  a  lady  had  been  taken 
ill,  and  to  put  her  in  a  cab  and  send  her  home. 
But  how  to  get  her  through  the  crowd  down- 
stairs with  those  streaming  eyes  and  wet  cheeks 
he  could  not  imagine.  What  would  the  old 
gentleman  say  that  had  introduced  them  only  a 
few  minutes  before? 

He  stepped  out  into  the  hall.  No  one  was 
in  that  part  of  the  building  then.  They  were 
all  downstairs  at  the  exhibition,  probably.  He 
went  as  fast  as  he  could  to  the  servants'  quar- 
ters and  called  one  of  the  maids.  He  explained 
matters  as  they  went  back  to  the  library  to- 
gether, slipping  a  bill  into  her  hand,  and  ask- 
ing her  to  manage  it  quietly. 

When  they  reached  the  library,  it  was  empty. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


WHEN  Helen  Ohlstrom  reached  her 
home  again,  and  threw  herself 
upon  the  bed,  there  was  only  one 
thought  that  stood  out  clearly  and  forcibly  from 
all  the  dreadful  things  she  had  listened  to  that 
afternoon :  "The  best-looking  of  the  gang 
makes  love  to  the  girl,  and  persuades  her  to 
run  off  with  him  to  some  foreign  country."  In 
the  hundreds  of  times  that  she  had  allowed  her 
memory  to  run  over  the  details  of  that  last  eve- 
ning with  Hardy  Maxwell,  there  had  never 
failed  to  be  a  little  pang  when  she  recalled  his 
peculiar  insistence  on  the  possibility  that  she 
would  have  to  go  to  him. 

Somehow  or  other,  she  attached  little  impor- 
tance to  the  change  of  names;  it  was  so  over- 
shadowed by  the  other.  Besides,  McBride  had 
been  guilty  of  that  himself.  It  might  be  quite 
common  in  business,  although  she  was  not  aware 
of  it.  She  did  not  think  anything  about  the 
baggage  in  the  room.  The  two  dreadful  facts 
that  stared  her  in  the  face  were,  that  he  had 
run  away,  and  that  just  before  he  went,  evi- 
235 


236  Cab  No.  44 

dently  knowing  he  was  going,  he  had  asked  her 
if  she  would  follow  him. 

She  could  not  imagine  what  to  do.  She 
longed  for  the  sympathy  and  advice  of  some 
trusted  friend;  but  she  could  not  think  of  any 
one  that  she  would  dare  to  trust  with  such  a 
dreadful  secret.  McBride  was  the  only  one  to 
whom  she  had  been  weak  enough  to  hint  at 
her  engagement  without  being  really  sure  of  it 
herself.  He  was  the  only  person  she  could 
think  of  in  this  emergency;  but  she  shrank  from 
the  thought  of  even  seeing  him  again.  She 
divined  his  feelings  toward  her,  and  that  fact 
made  her  doubt  his  motives.  He  seemed  to  be 
her  evil  genius.  But  for  him  she  would  never 
have  heard  all  these  things  about  Hardy. 

As  she  thought  over  the  details  of  what 
McBride  had  told  her,  she  recalled  as  peculiar 
the  fact  that  Mr.  Hartley  should  know  that  the 
letters  Hardy  had  brought  to  her  parents  were 
forged.  It  suddenly  flashed  upon  her  that  the 
simplest  thing  to  do  would  be  to  ask  her  father 
to  write  to  his  brother  in  England  and  find  out 
if  that  letter  was  genuine.  It  struck  her  as 
peculiar  that  Hardy  Maxwell  had  brought  no 
other  letters  and  seemed  to  have  no  other 
friends. 

On  second  thoughts,  it  would  be  awkward  to 


Cab  No.  44  237 

ask  her  father  to  write  such  a  letter.  Why  not 
write  it  herself?  She  need  not  ask  any  direct 
questions.  Why  could  she  not  write  a  few  lines 
to  her  aunt,  saying  something  nice  about  Mr. 
Hardy  Maxwell  and  what  a  pleasant  acquain- 
tance they  had  found  him?  If  her  aunt  had 
never  heard  of  such  a  person,  she  would  not  be 
long  in  saying  so.  The  idea  seemed  so  prac- 
tical that  she  jumped  up,  almost  resolved  to 
send  a  cable  message.  It  was  only  the  fear  that 
it  would  look  too  important  that  deterred  her 
from  telegraphing. 

She  went  downstairs  and  got  the  morning 
paper.  There  was  a  mail  vessel  sailing  on 
Wednesday  at  n.  The  mails  closed  at  7:30. 
If  she  wrote  a  letter  at  once  and  posted  it  that 
evening,  it  would  catch  the  morning  mail  at 
7  :3O.  To  make  quite  sure,  she  took  it  to  the 
branch  postoffice  herself,  and  put  a  special  de- 
livery stamp  on  it;  not  knowing  that  such  extra 
postage  was  wasted  on  foreign  letters. 

Next  morning  at  breakfast,  she  succeeded  in 
extracting  from  her  father  the  opinion  that  a 
letter  sent  to  Europe  that  day  would  probably 
be  delivered  on  the  following  Thursday  or 
Friday  week,  and  that  the  very  earliest  possible 
answer  would  reach  New  York  two  weeks  from 


238  'Cab  No.  44 

Saturday.     In  the  winter  it  might  not  be  de- 
livered until  Monday,  if  the  boat  was  delayed. 

That  seemed  a  long,  long  way  off  to  her; 
but  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait.  She 
hoped  that  something  might  happen  in  the 
meantime.  Perhaps  he  would  write  1 

McBride  called  that  afternoon  about  five 
o'clock  and  sent  up  his  card ;  but  Helen  told  the 
maid  to  say  she  was  not  at  home.  She  did 
not  want  to  see  him.  She  wanted  to  be  alone. 
She  simply  dreaded  the  idea  of  having  him  re- 
peat or  add  to  any  of  the  terrible  things  he  had 
told  her  the  day  before. 

The  next  morning  she  received  a  very  cour- 
teous letter  from  him.  It  was  full  of  regrets 
for  the  pain  he  had  caused  her,  and  said  he  was 
sorry  that  he  had  not  found  her  at  home  when 
he  called  on  her.  He  regretted  to  say  that  Mr. 
/  Hartley  had  left  the  city,  and  he  had  had  no 
opportunity  to  verify  or  disprove  anything;  but 
he  was  quite  sure  he  was  right  about  Mr.  Max- 
well. He  ended  by  saying  that  if  there  was 
anything  he  could  do  to  get  at  the  bottom  of 
the  matter,  he  was  at  her  service,  absolutely 
and  without  reserve.  He  had  promised  to  help 
her  to  find  Mr.  Maxwell,  and  he  meant  every 
word  of  it. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  make  no  answer; 


Cab  No.  44  239 

but  after  thinking  over  the  matter  all  day  she 
realized  more  and  more  that  after  all  he  was 
the  only  person  who  knew  her  trouble.  He  was 
the  only  connecting  link  between  herself  and 
her  truant  lover.  Perhaps  he  could  do  some- 
thing after  all.  While  her  instinct  told  her 
that  he  might  not  be  particularly  anxious  to 
clear  up  every  sinister  rumor  reflecting  on 
Hardy  Maxwell's  reputation,  but  that  he  might 
be,  if  anything,  secretly  pleased  at  the  idea  of 
getting  rid  of  a  rival,  he  might  be  able  to  de- 
termine the  doubts  in  her  mind,  one  way  or  the 
other. 

So  she  sat  down  and  wrote  him  a  very 
friendly  note,  in  which  she  made  this  proposi- 
tion. He  had  made  dreadful  accusations 
against  her  friend  and  the  friend  of  her  family. 
She  did  not  believe  a  word  of  it.  The  very 
least  he  could  do,  she  thought,  would  be  to 
make  some  effort  to  prove  the  justice  of  his 
accusations.  He  was  a  man.  Why  could  he 
not  find  out  the  truth  beyond  all  question?  All 
he  had  said  rested  on  the  word  of  a  third  per- 
son, Mr.  Hartley.  If  Mr.  Maxwell  was  such 
a  dangerous  character,  other  people  must  know 
it. 

She  kept  a  copy  of  that  letter,  which  she  could 


240  Cab  No.  44 

not  help  thinking  was  rather  clever.  She  was 
very  curious  to  know  what  answer  Mr.  McBride 
would  make,  or  what  he  would  do.  She  had  not 
long  to  wait. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

MR.    GROSCUP   called    at   Hartley's 
office  on  Thursday  morning,  only  to 
discover  that  Hartley  had  fled  to 
Florida,  and  that  McBride  was  in  full  charge 
of  his  affairs. 

The  lawyer  was  rather  favorably  impressed 
with  the  appearance  and  manner  of  the  young 
man,  and  was  in  no  hurry  to  bring  his  call  to 
an  end.  The  opportunity  to  have  a  quiet  talk 
with  Hartley's  confidential  clerk  was  rather  too 
good  to  be  lost,  the  lawyer  thought.  He  had 
gathered  from  the  interview  with  Hartley  at 
Green's  that  McBride  was  familiar  with  some 
of  the  circumstances  of  the  case  in  which  Gros- 
cup  himself  was  engaged  as  counsel.  The  ex- 
tent of  the  clerk's  knowledge  was  problematical. 
Perhaps  McBride  could  throw  some  light  on 
certain  parts  which  were  not  at  all  clear  to  the 
lawyer  so  far. 

The  most  natural  introduction  to  the  subject 
was,  of  course,  the  girl  in  the  case.  Groscup 
was  very  much  astonished  to  learn  that  McBride 
knew  her  personally  and  had  called  at  her  house. 
In  fact  he  could  hardly  believe  it. 
241 


242  Cab  No.  44 

"Well,  Mr.  McBride,"  he  said,  "I  am  Mr. 
Hartley's  counsel;  retained  in  case  there  should 
be  any  trouble  in  this  matter.  You  are  his  con- 
fidential secretary.  Would  it  not  be  well  for  us 
to  be  perfectly  frank  with  each  other?" 

"Certainly,  my  dear  sir.  That  is  just  what  I 
wish.  I  have  nothing  to  conceal  in  the  matter, 
I  assure  you." 

"Then  you  will  not  take  offense  at  anything 
I  may  say;  however  it  may  upset  your  precon- 
ceived opinions  of  certain — people?"  He  was 
going  to  say  "young  ladies,"  but  he  thought 
better  of  it. 

"Of  course  not.  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  a 
few  facts  in  place  of  all  this  talk." 

"Well,  the  night  before  last,  I  dined  with 
the  young  lady  you  refer  to." 

"Indeed!"  McBride  was  clearly  astounded. 
"At  her  house?" 

"No.  She  never  dines  at  home.  In  a  cafe, 
on  Second  Avenue." 

McBride  sat  there  with  his  mouth  wide  open, 
as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost. 

"Why,"  he  stammered,  "I  left  her  at  the 
Athletic  Club  in  the  afternoon;  feeling  very  ill. 
In  fact  she  was  completely  prostrated."  He 
ran  his  hand  through  his  curly  hair  for  a  mo- 
ment and  then  added:  "I  don't  understand  this 


Cab  No.  44  243 

business  at  all.  I  wish  I  had  never  heard  of  it. 
There  seems  to  be  some  trick  or  double-deal- 
ing on  the  part  of  every  one.  That  forger, 
Maxwell,  started  it  all,  it  seems." 

"That  forger,  Maxwell!"  exclaimed  the 
lawyer,  suddenly  recalling  a  slip  of  Hartley's 
that  evening  at  Green's.  "What  do  you  mean 
by  referring  to  him  as  a  forger,  may  I  ask?" 

"Didn't  you  know  he  was  one  of  the  Ard- 
more  gang?" 

"What!     The  Bank  of  England  forgers?" 

"Certainly.  The  police  found  the  gang's 
effects  in  his  room  at  the  hotel,  I  understand. 
They  were  about  to  arrest  him  when  he  skipped 
out." 

"You  and  I  are  evidently  talking  about  dif- 
ferent persons,  Mr.  McBride." 

"That  may  be.  I  have  never  seen  Maxwell 
myself.  All  I  know  about  him  is  hearsay.  He 
seems  to  have  had  more  names  than  a  cat  has 
lives.  I  don't  think  Hartley  can  be  mistaken. 
He  made  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  affair  to 
me  before  he  went  away.  He  said  he  had  met 
this  man  under  the  name  of  Fletcher,  quite 
casually,  at  a  dinner,  I  believe,  and  did  not 
know  any  more  about  him  than  his  name.  Had 
no  further  interest  in  him.  Did  not  even  know 
where  he  lived.  About  a  week  after  Fletcher 


244  Cab  No.  44 

disappeared,  a  detective  called  on  Hartley,  and 
stated  that  he  had  traced  him  up  as  one  of 
Fletcher's  acquaintances.  Wanted  to  take  him 
up  to  headquarters  and  put  him  through  the 
third  degree,  or  something  like  that.  Of  course 
Hartley  was  badly  scared,  and  wanted  to  know 
what  Fletcher  had  been  up  to." 

The  lawyer  was  evidently  very  deeply  in- 
terested. 

"Then  the  detective  told  Hartley  what  they 
had  found  out  about  Fletcher,  or  Maxwell. 
How  they  had  traced  him  to  the  hotel,  and 
found  some  of  the  Ardmore  gang's  baggage  in 
his  room,  and  all  that.  The  only  persons  they 
could  think  of,  Hartley  says,  that  Maxwell 
would  be  likely  to  connect  with,  was  this  young 
lady,  Miss  Ohlstrom " 

"You  mean  Miss  Stewart?" 

"No,  I  mean  Miss  Ohlstrom." 

"Well,  go  on.  Hartley  said  the  name  was 
assumed." 

"Hartley  says  the  detectives  had  shadowed 
Maxwell,  and  had  seen  him  with  her  on  sev- 
eral occasions,  and  that  they  were  watching  her 
now,  thinking  he  might  write  to  her." 

"They  will  catch  a  weasel  asleep  if  they  get 
anything  out  of  her;  that's  all  I  have  to  say. 
She's  nobody's  fool." 


Cab  No.  44  245 

McBride  went  on  without  noticing  the  inter- 
ruption : 

"Of  course  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  state  the  facts 
to  Miss  Ohlstrom,  who  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and 
to  inform  her  that  she  had  been  grossly  deceived 
by  the  forged  letters  of  introduction,  and  so 
forth." 

"Under  what  name  did  she  know  him?" 

"Maxwell.     Hardy  Maxwell." 

"And  had  she  no  knowledge  of  his  knowing 
Hartley,  Maynard,  Dr.  Ramie,  Douglas,  and 
the  rest?" 

"Of  course  she  had.  It  was  because  she  iden- 
tified those  gentlemen  as  friends  of  Maxwell's 
that  I  demanded  an  explanation  from  Hart- 
ley. She  knew  the  whole  story  about  the  dinner, 
and  the  bet  they  were  going  to  make,  and  all 
that  nonsense." 

"What  a  smart  liar  she  must  be !"  exclaimed 
the  lawyer,  half  to  himself. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  snapped  the 
younger  man,  his  eyes  flashing  with  anger.  "I 
trust  you  do  not  refer  to  Miss  Ohlstrom?" 

"Call  her  Miss  Ohlstrom  or  Miss  Stewart, 
which  you  please.  That  is  the  one  I  was  think- 
ing of.  She's  the  finest  actress  that  ever  lived, 
and  if  Maxwell  fooled  her  with  forged  letters 
— well,  they  were  quite  unnecessary*,  that's  all. 


246  Cab  No.  44 

You  don't  need  letters  to  a  woman  of  that 
kind." 

The  young  man  rose  from  his  chair  sud- 
denly. "Really,  Mr.  Groscup,  I  cannot  permit 
such  language  about  a  young  lady  that  I  con- 
sider a  personal  friend." 

"If  you  will  sit  down,  and  have  a  little  pa- 
tience, Mr.  McBride,  I  think  I  can  convince  you 
that  your  enthusiasm  is  due  to  your  youth  and 
want  of  experience  of  the  world.  A  woman  that 
carries  a  loaded  revolver,  and  picks  up  acquain- 
tances in  a  public  cafe " 

"What's  that?  What  the  devil  do  you  mean, 
sir?  How  dare  you  insinuate  such  things?" 

"Sit  down,  my  dear  sir,  and  be  calm,"  re- 
joined the  lawyer,  quite  unmoved.  "Let  me 
ask  you  a  question  or  two.  Have  you  ever  dined 
at  her  house?" 

"No,"  he  snapped. 

"Ever  seen  her  parents?" 

"No;  but  an  old  friend  of  mine  knows  them." 

"Indeed!  I  shall  have  to  trouble  you  for  his 
name  and  address  presently.  Who  introduced 
you  to  her,  as  you  have  never  seen  these  alleged 
parents  of  hers?" 

"He  did.  At  the  Athletic  Club ;  on  Tuesday 
afternoon." 

"Tuesday  afternoon,  eh?    Rather  a  short  ac- 


Cab  No.  44  247 

quaintance.  Have  you  called  upon  her  since 
then?" 

"Yes.  That  is  to  say,"  he  stammered,  "the 
fact  is,  she  was  not  in." 

"You  thought  she  was  not  in,  perhaps." 
McBride  winced  and  began  to  feel  rather  queer. 
The  lawyer  went  on.  "I  judge  from  what  you 
say  that  she  did  not  ask  you  to  call  at  her  house 
the  first  time  you  went  there.  You  say  you  have 
not  been  there  since  you  were  introduced. 
Were  you  welcome  on  the  occasion  of  your  first 
call?"  The  lawyer  smiled  as  he  saw  the  color 
come  and  go  on  the  young  man's  face.  "Was 
not  the  first  time  you  saw  her  here  in  the  office?" 

"Yes.  She  came  in  here  to  ask  about  Max- 
well." 

"The  next  time  was  when  she  waylaid  you 
in  the  corridor,  downstairs?" 

"That  was  a  lie.  I  told  Hartley  that  story. 
The  fact  is,  I  called  on  her  at  her  house." 

"So  the  history  of  your  acquaintance  amounts 
to  this:  A  fine-looking  girl  strolled  into  this 
office,  and  you  got  stuck  on  her,  and  practically 
picked  her  up  without  knowing  anything  about 
her.  She  allowed  you  to  call  on  her,  and — — '* 

"Why,  dash  it  all!  Wasn't  I  introduced  to 
her  on  Tuesday?" 


248  Cab  No.  44 

"That  is  the  day  you  told  her  Maxwell  was 
a  fraud,  I  believe?" 

"Yes,  and  she  went  on  terribly  about  it,  and 
declared  she  didn't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Said 
she  didn't  care  what  we  thought;  it  was  all  a 
lie.  The  fact  is,  I  think  she  is  engaged  to  Max- 
well." 

Groscup  whistled.  He  was  thinking  of  the 
head-waiter's  diagnosis  of  the  case.  "Married, 
you  mean,"  he  suggested,  with  a  smile.  Notic- 
ing how  pale  McBride  turned  at  the  words,  he 
went  on :  "She  and  Maxwell  used  to  dine  every 
night  at  the  same  cafe  that  I  dined  in  with  her 
on  Tuesday  night.  The  head-waiter  told  me  he 
thought  they  were  married.  He  described  Max- 
well exactly." 

The  lawyer  paused.  McBride  was  becoming 
paler  every  moment.  Finally  the  young  man 
managed  to  ask: 

"Did  none  of  the  party  you  were  with  know 
that  she  was  married?" 

"There  was  no  party.  I  never  saw  her  be- 
fore. The  head-waiter  put  me  at  the  same  table 
with  her,  and  we  got  into  conversation  and  had 
a  bottle  of  wine  together.  Fine-looking  girl ! 
I  understand  that  she  has  quite  a  few — what 
shall  I  say — admirers?" 

McBride  was  holding  on  to  the  arms  of  his 


Cab  No.  44  249 

chair  and  staring  at  the  lawyer  as  if  he  were 
fascinated  by  a  snake.  He  noted  the  cynical 
smile  that  accompanied  the  last  words. 

"It's  a  lie,"  he  hissed. 

Groscup  rose  from  his  chair  with  great  dig- 
nity, and  buttoned  up  his  coat.  "Really, 
Mr.  McBride,  this  has  gone  far  enough.  I  shall 
leave  you  to  recover  your  senses  and  your  good 
manners  together." 

McBride  was  upon  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and 
came  so  close  that  the  lawyer  thought  he  was 
about  to  lay  violent  hands  on  him.  "Liar  I 
Scoundrel!"  he  snarled.  "You  shall  repeat 
those  words  to  Miss  Ohlstrom's  face,  or  I'll 
break  every  bone  in  your  body." 

The  lawyer  was  now  really  alarmed,  and  be- 
gan to  fear  that  he  had  a  dangerous  man  to 
deal  with.  "I  am  perfectly  willing  to  meet  her 
in  your  presence,  but  I  believe  she  is  not  at 
home  to  you,"  retorted  the  lawyer,  getting 
warm  himself.  "As  I  am  confident  that  she 
will  not  refuse  herself  to  me,"  with  a  bow, 
pointing  his  hand  to  his  breast,  "suppose  you 
allow  me  to  take  you  up  to  her?" 

Groscup's  manner  was  maddening. 

"Yes.  This  minute.  I'll  go  with  you  right 
now." 

"Such    haste    is    entirely    unnecessary,"    re- 


250  Cab  No.  44 

marked  the  lawyer,  cooling  off  a  little.  She  does 
not  wish  people  to  whom  she  has  not  been  in- 
troduced to  call  at  her  house.  She  will  dine 
at  the  same  cafe  this  evening,  probably.  Meet 
me  at  my  club  at  six  o'clock  and  I  will  take  you 
there."  Then  seeing  the  young  man  was  be- 
coming calmer,  he  added:  "I  don't  blame  you 
for  being  fascinated  by  such  a  woman;  but  I 
fear  you  are  not  the  first  victim  by  any  means. 
Perhaps  if  I  succeed  in  disillusionizing  you,  I 
shall  be  doing  you  a  service.  To-night  at  six, 
then." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  head-waiter  was  delighted  to  see 
his  patron  again.  Would  he  sit  at 
the  same  table  with  the  lady?  She 
was  not  yet  in  the  room.  Groscup  took  the  man 
aside,  and  told  him  in  a  whisper  that  he  would 
prefer  to  sit  near  enough  for  his  companion  to 
sit  facing  her,  but  not  near  enough  for  their 
conversation  to  be  overheard.  He  himself  pre- 
ferred to  sit  with  his  back  to  her,  so  that  he 
need  not  bow  when  she  came  in;  but  he  would 
like  to  be  told  when  she  arrived.  That  could 
be  easily  arranged. 

McBride  seemed  to  enjoy  his  surroundings. 
He  liked  the  pretty  women  and  the  dresses 
and  the  music,  and  the  general  air  of  life  about 
the  place,  all  of  which  was  quite  new  to  him, 
as  he  knew  little  or  nothing  of  the  restaurant 
side  of  New  York  life.  The  two  men  had  not 
been  seated  long  before  a  nudge  from  the  head 
waiter's  elbow  warned  the  lawyer  that  she  had 
arrived.  McBride  caught  sight  of  her  as  she 
came  in,  and  he  watched  her  all  the  way  from 
the  door  to  her  seat.  He  had  a  quick  eye  for 
a  pretty  woman  with  a  good  figure. 
251 


252  Cab  No.  44 

"Fine-looking  girl  about  two  tables  behind 
you,"  he  whispered,  as  he  carelessly  broke  a 
piece  of  bread. 

"Do  you  know  her?"  the  lawyer  asked  care- 
lessly, turning  his  head  just  enough  to  be  sure 
that  it  was  she. 

"Never  saw  her  before." 

"Doesn't  she  look  like  any  one  you  know?" 
The  lawyer's  tone  betrayed  his  astonishment. 

"Not  particularly.  Looks  about  the  same 
height  and  figure  as  Miss  Ohlstrom;  but  older, 
and  nothing  like  as  good  looking." 

"Indeed!  You  are  looking  at  the  woman 
that  is  supposed  to  be  Miss  Ohlstrom.  She 
calls  herself  Miss  Stewart." 

McBride  laughed  aloud. 

"That  Miss  Ohlstrom!  My  dear  fellow, 
that's  nothing  but  an  ordinary  pretty  woman. 
Miss  Ohlstrom  is  an  angel." 

The  lawyer  admonished  him  to  speak  a  little 
lower;  but  he  went  on,  almost  boisterously,  ex- 
tending his  hand :  "I  beg  your  pardon,  old  man, 
for  everything  that  happened  this  morning.  I 
have  only  one  explanation  to  offer,  dash  it  all. 
Hartley  is  a  liar." 

"But  the  woman  you  are  looking  at  is  un- 
doubtedly Maxwell's  wife,"  Groscup  whispered. 


Cab  No.  44  '253 

"Hartley's  end  of  it  may  not  be  straight;  but 
mine  is." 

"I  don't  care  who  she  is,"  retorted  McBride. 
"A  fine-looking  woman ;  but  not  my  style.  She's 
not  in  it  with  Miss  Ohlstrom  for  a  minute. 
But  say!"  with  a  sudden  inspiration,  "if  you 
can  prove  that  Maxwell  is  already  married,  or 
if  this  woman  is  engaged  to  him,  you  can  do  me 
a  great  favor." 

"We  will  come  to  that  later,"  remarked  the 
lawyer,  with  a  smile  that  showed  he  understood 
perfectly  what  was  in  the  younger  man's  mind. 

"What  I  am  curious  to  know  is,  how  you  came 
to  take  this  woman  for  Miss  Ohlstrom." 

The  lawyer  took  out  his  card-case  and  pro- 
duced a  slip  of  paper,  which  he  passed  over  the 
table.  "There  is  the  address  that  Mr.  Hart- 
ley sent  over  to  me."  McBride  glanced  at  it, 
and  laid  it  down  with  a  laugh. 

"That  is  not  Miss  Ohlstrom's  address,  any 
more  than  it  is  her  name.  Her  name  is  not 
Stewart." 

"She  was  followed  from  Mr.  Hartley's  office 
to  that  address  on  the  morning  you  first  saw 
her."  . 

"Indeed  I"  with  another  laugh.  "By  whom, 
pray?" 

"By  one  of  the  men  in  your  office ;  Johnson." 


254  Cab  No.  44 

"Johnson !  We  have  no  one  by  that  name  in 
the  office.  The  only  Johnson  I  know  comes 
from  a  private  detective  agency.  He  has  some 
important  business  with  Mr.  Hartley,  appar- 
ently. He  is  going  to  call  to-morrow  morning 
for  some  letter,  and  I  am  to  make  some  excuse 
to  put  him  off.  I  don't  know  anything  about 
his  business  with  Mr.  Hartley;  but  I  certainly 
do  know  that  he  never  followed  Miss  Ohlstrom 
that  morning;  because  I  went  down  to  the  street 
with  her  myself." 

"Oh !"  was  all  the  lawyer  had  to  say.  Then 
the  two  men  looked  at  each  other  for  a  space. 
Each  seemed  to  know  the  other  was  thinking 
about  something  else. 

"I  should  like  to  meet  Mr.  Johnson  when  he 
calls  for  that  letter.  Could  you  detain  him  until 
you  telephone  for  me,  do  you  think?" 

"Certainly.  If  you  will  stay  in,  as  I  do  not 
know  when  he  will  come." 

When  the  coffee  was  brought  on,  Groscup 
turned  round  in  his  chair  to  look  leisurely  about 
him,  and  then,  as  if  quite  unexpectedly,  recog- 
nized the  lady  at  the  table  near  by,  and  bowed. 
She  made  a  sign  for  them  to  join  her,  and 
McBride  was  presented.  The  young  man  was 
in  high  spirits  at  the  termination  of  his  day's 
troubles,  and  made  himself  very  agreeable.  He 


Cab  No.  44  255 

also  had  to  confess  that  Miss  Stewart  was  a 
charming  woman.  He  observed  that  the  lawyer 
several  times  touched  his  foot  lightly  under  the 
table,  at  the  same  moment  that  he  mentioned 
some  name,  such  as  Maxwell,  or  Maynard,  or 
Hartley;  but  the  woman  showed  no  sign.  He 
might  as  well  have  dragged  the  name  of  his 
office-boy  into  the  conversation. 

When  it  was  about  time  to  go,  Groscup 
seemed  to  think  of  something.  "By  the  way," 
he  said,  "I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  presenting 
my  friend  by  name.  My  own  name  is  Groscup," 
bowing.  "Was  I  correct  in  addressing  you  as 
Miss  Stewart?" 

"I  wondered  how  you  knew  my  name,"  she 
said  lightly;  "but  it  is  Mrs.  Stewart.  I  am 
sorry  we  did  not  see  each  other  sooner.  We 
might  have  dined  together.  Good-night." 

"Well,"  remarked  the  lawyer,  as  they  stepped 
out  into  the  night  air:  "We  have  straightened 
out  two  riddles  to-day.  You  have  helped  me 
considerably  by  identifying  Mr.  Maxwell  as  one 
of  the  Ardmore  gang;  which  is  something  I  am 
sure  no  one  ever  suspected  before;  and  which 
accounts  for  many  things.  I  cannot  imagine 
why  Mr.  Hartley  did  not  mention  it.  I,  on  the 
other  hand,  have  cleared  up  for  you  the  mystery 
surrounding  Miss  Ohlstrom.  The  next  step  is 


2 $6  Cab  No.  44 

to  find  Mr.  Maxwell  and  land  him  in  jail,  I  sup- 
pose, although  I  am  inclined  to  bet  against  that 
being  possible  for  some  time  to  come.  I  should 
also  be  very  sorry  to  see  such  a  charming  woman 
as  Mrs.  Stewart  in  such  deep  trouble." 

"And  I  should  be  very  glad  to  see  Miss 
Ohlstrom  safely  out  of  a  nasty  mess.  Falling 
in  love  with  a  married  man  is  bad  enough;  but 
with  a  thief  and  a  forger,  whose  wife  carries  a 
loaded  revolver  1" 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  next  morning  McBride  received 
Miss  Ohlstrom's  letter,  and  he  lost 
no  time  in  answering  it.  He  began 
by  expressing  his  entire  willingness  to  assist  in 
running  down  Mr.  Maxwell,  as  he  had 
promised;  adding,  with  great  care  to  make  it 
seem  like  a  most  commonplace  announcement, 
that  he  had  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mr. 
Maxwell's  wife  at  dinner  the  night  before,  and 
that  the  task  of  finding  Mr.  Maxwell  himself 
would  probably  be  much  simpler  now. 

He  sent  the  letter  out  to  the  post  at  once; 
so  that  it  should  reach  her  that  afternoon.  He 
spent  most  of  his  leisure  that  day  in  wonder- 
ing what  effect  the  latest  piece  of  information 
would  have. 

The  effect  was  a  telephone  message,  asking 
him  to  call  that  evening.  She  did  not  ask  for 
him;  but  gave  the  message  to  the  office-boy,  so 
that  he  had  no  chance  to  speak  to  her  himself. 

Miss  Ohlstrom  received  him  in  the  parlor. 
She  looked  very  pale,  and  her  eyes  betrayed  that 
she  had  been  weeping.  "I  cannot  stand  this 
suspense  any  longer,"  she  began  abruptly. 

257 


258  Cab  No.  44 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  that  dreadful  letter 
you  wrote  me  about  meeting  a  Mrs.  Maxwell?'* 

McBride  explained  the  circumstances  with- 
out the  slightest  regard  for  the  anguish  he  was 
causing  the  girl  before  him.  He  seemed  to 
glory  in  his  triumph,  and  in  the  proof  that  his 
estimate  of  Mr.  Maxwell  was  correct.  He  pre- 
sented the  connecting  links  that  had  led  to  the 
discovery,  showing  how  various  contradictory 
stories  told  by  Mr.  Hartley  had  been  pieced  to- 
gether; developing  the  fact  that  Mr.  Maxwell 
had  been  shadowed  before  his  escape,  and  had 
been  frequently  seen  with  this  woman,  who 
acknowledged  that  her  name  was  Mrs.  Stewart, 
and  Stewart  was  the  name  that  Maxwell  had 
given  at  the  first  hotel  he  went  to,  and  was  un- 
doubtedly his  right  name.  The  head-waiter  in 
the  restaurant  had  told  Mr.  Groscup  that  they 
were  a  married  couple. 

Then  he  went  on  to  tell  how  Mr.  Groscup 
had  sent  to  the  address  given  to  Mr.  Hartley 
by  the  detective,  and  had  found  out  about  this 
woman's  dining  at  the  cafe;  and  how  Groscup 
had  gone  there  himself  and  got  into  conversa- 
tion with  her  without  the  formality  of  an  in- 
troduction. He  made  no  concealment  of  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Hartley  had  supposed,  when  Miss 
Ohlstrom  called  at  the  office,  that  she  was  the 


Cab  No.  44  259 

person  whose  address  the  detective  had  given 
him,  and  McBride  took  great  credit  to  himself 
for  having  discovered  the  mistake.  He  said 
nothing  about  the  scene  in  the  office  with  the 
lawyer  the  day  before.  In  fact,  he  was  rather 
ashamed  of  it. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  it  all  comes  back  to  Mr. 
Hartley  again,"  Helen  said  sadly.  "I  could 
believe  the  story,  perhaps,  if  he  were  not  mixed 
up  in  it;  but  I  have  no  faith  in  anything  that 
comes  through  him.  Did  you  address  this 
woman  as  Mrs.  Maxwell?" 

"Of  course  not.  She  goes  by  the  name  of 
Stewart." 

"Why  didn't  you  say  something  about  him, 
or  about  some  of  his  friends,  so  that  you  could 
see  if  she  knew  them?" 

He  had  to  acknowledge  that  the  lawyer  had 
tried  that  experiment  on  two  occasions,  without 
success.  "You  see,  Miss  Ohlstrom,  these  crim- 
inals are  very  clever.  You  can't  catch  them  that 
way." 

"And  who  introduced  you  to  this  woman  and 
told  you  she  was  Mrs.  Maxwell?" 

"No  one  introduced  us.  Mr.  Groscup  got 
into  a  conversation  with  her  at  the  cafe.  The 
detective  had  followed  Mr.  Maxwell  and  seen 
him  with  her  several  times." 


260  Cab  No.  44 

"Then  it  may  be  all  a  mistake.  Her  name 
may  not  be  Stewart  at  all.  It  may  not  be  Max- 
well. I  think  you  said  she  had  never  been  ad- 
dressed as  Mrs.  Maxwell.  If  this  woman  will 
come  to  me  and  tell  me  she  is  his  wife,  I  might 
believe  her.  No;  I  don't  think  I  should.  I 
never  dreamed  there  were  such  liars  in  the  world 
as  I  have  heard  of  lately.  I  don't  wish  to  doubt 
your  word,  Mr.  McBride;  but  I  think  you  are 
being  humbugged."  Then,  taking  a  long 
breath,  and  shaking  her  head  with  a  very  posi- 
tive air,  she  added,  in  a  much  more  determined 
tone :  "I  don't  believe  a  word  of  this  Mrs.  Max- 
well story.  There  is  only  one  person  in  the 
world  that  I  would  believe,  and  that  is  Hardy 
himself." 

"But  you  must  acknowledge  that  he  is  a  shock- 
ing liar.  He  changed  his  name  three  or  four 
times.  There  is  no  getting  round  that." 

"I  have  thought  over  that  too.  I  am  not 
so  sure  that  it  is  not  a  mistake,  just  like  all  the 
other  things.  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the 
person  you  call  Milton  Fletcher  and  Mr.  Max- 
well are  not  the  same.  No  one  ever  saw  the 
two  men  that  claimed  those  two  names  together. 
Did  you  ever  meet  any  one  that  knew  him  as 
'Mr.  Maxwell?" 

McBride  had  to  acknowledge  that  he  had 


Cab  No.  44  261 

not,  but  he  insisted  that  he  knew  of  persons  who 
had  known  him  as  Fletcher  and  as  Walton. 

"Did  you  know  him  as  such?"  she  asked 
quickly. 

"No;  but  Mr.  Hartley  did." 

"There  comes  Mr.  Hartley  again.  No, 
Mr.  McBride,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  the  truth. 
I  don't  doubt  your  good  faith  in  the  matter;  but 
I  don't  believe  that  Hardy  is  a  liar.  I  don't  be- 
lieve he  is  a  forger.  I  don't  believe  he  is 
married.  I  don't  believe  that  this  woman  you 
have  picked  up  in  a  cafe  is  his  wife.  I  should 
not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  he  never  met  her 
in  his  life.  I  will  put  my  faith  in  what  I  myself 
know  of  Hardy  Maxwell  against  all  the  detec- 
tives and  lawyers  and  Hartleys  in  the  world." 

McBride  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  if  he  had 
nothing  to  say  in  the  face  of  such  obstinacy  as 
that.  She  went  on: 

"But  enough  of  this.  Can't  we  'do  something? 
Can't  we  settle  this  uncertainty  somehow,  and 
get  to  the  bottom  of  it  all?" 

"I  am  ready  to  do  anything  you  suggest,"  he 
said  quietly. 

"Why  not  ask  the  police  to  find  him?" 

"I  suppose  they  are  doing  their  best  in  that 
direction  now,  if  they  know  who  he  is.  I  judge 


262  Cab  No.  44 

from  the  papers  that  the  whole  police  force  of 
New  York  has  been  after  that  gang  fornveeks." 

"Why,  he  was  in  the  city  every  day.  He 
went  walking  with  me  on  the  avenue.  He  be- 
longed to  a  well  known  club.  Why  didn't  they 
arrest  him  then?" 

"Give  it  up,"  was  all  McBride  could  say,  for 
he  was  struck  by  the  force  of  her  arguments. 
"Shall  I  go  to  the  police  and  tell  them  he  was  a 
friend  of  yours,  and  went  walking  with  you?" 
He  smiled  ironically. 

"Yes!  Certainly!"  she  answered  instantly. 
"You  can  tell  them  that.  I  am  not  ashamed  of 
Hardy  Maxwell.  You  can  tell  them  that  I  went 
walking  with  him;  that  he  visited  me  at  my 
own  home,  and  that  I  am  engaged  to  him.  And 
you  can  add  that  I  am  not  ashamed  of  it  either, 
and  that  I  hope  they  will  send  for  me  the  mo- 
ment they  find  him.  I  want  to  be  the  first  to 
tell  him  that  no  matter  what  he  has  been  to  me, 
I  was  true  to  him.  Two  wrongs  do  not  make  a 
right,  Mr.  McBride,  and  his  falseness,  if  such 
it  be,  is  no  excuse  for  my  being  false  to  him." 

Mr.  McBride  stood  there  stupefied.  He 
could  not  understand  such  philosophy.  "Why," 
he  said,  "if  any  one  were  to  come  and  tell  me 
facts  as  straightforward  as  those  I  have  told 
you,  I  would  certainly  attach  some  weight  to 


Cab  No.  44  263 

them,  and  take  it  for  granted  that  my  informant 
was  telling  the  truth  until  I  found  out  the  con- 
trary." 

"If  you  were  in  love  with  a  girl  and  some 
one  came  and  told  you  stories  about  her,  you 
would  take  it  quietly,  and  believe  every  word  of 
it,  would  you?" 

"Why,  of  course "  The  recollection  of 

the  language  he  had  used  to  Mr.  Groscup  in 
the  office  the  day  before  stopped  him,  and  he 
turned  very  red  in  the  face.  He  was  about  to 
stammer  something,  when  she  went  on: 

"Your  arguments  do  not  convince  me  at  all. 
I  do  not  believe  any  disinterested  person  would 
listen  to  them.  Perhaps  if  you  will  go  and  tell 
the  police  that  the  dreadful  forger  they  are  look- 
ing for  is  Mr.  Maxwell,  they  might  ask  you  for 
proofs.  Do  you  think  your  evidence  would  con- 
vict him?  If  they  asked  me,  I  would  swear  on 
a  thousand  bibles  that  he  was  innocent." 

When  he  came  to  think  over  it,  McBride  had 
to  admit  that  he  could  not  prove  very  much. 
In  spite  of  himself,  he  felt  that  she  was  right 
about  one  thing;  there  were  too  many  of  Mr. 
Hartley's  falsehoods  floating  round  to  make  a 
straight  story  out  of  what  he  had  heard. 
Finally  he  had  an  idea. 

"You   seem   to   be   the    only  person,    Miss 


264  Cab  No.  44 

Ohlstrom,  who  knew  him  as  Maxwell.  At  the 
clubs  and  at  the  hotel  he  was  known  as  Milton 
Fletcher.  There  is  no  doubt  about  his  being 
the  same  man,  as  your  own  identification  of  him 
is  complete.  Now,  why  not  ask  the  police  to 
find  Milton  Fletcher?  Have  you  a  picture  of 
him?" 

"No,"  she  said,  half  regretfully,  "and  what 
is  very  curious,  I  have  not  a  line  from  him.  He 
never  wrote  me  a  note,  and  I  never  saw  his  hand- 
writing." 

"But  you  can  describe  him.  Suppose  we  write 
it  down." 

Yes,  she  could  do  that,  and  while  the  descrip- 
tion may  have  been  a  trifle  flattering,  it  was 
fairly  accurate;  quite  good  enough  for  any  de- 
tective. The  mustache  and  the  Vandyke,  Mr. 
McBride  did  not  think  much  of.  He  suggested 
that  Mr.  Fletcher  had  probably  cut  all  that  off 
when  he  ran  away,  if  it  was  not  false  in  the  first 
place. 

"Oh,  not  that!"  she  said,  looking  up  quickly. 
"I  cannot  imagine  him  with  a  shaven  face. 
Please  don't  describe  him  without  a  mustache." 
McBride  was  quite  sure  the  mustache  was  mis- 
leading; but  it  might  stand  in  the  description  of 
what  Maxwell  was. 

An  hour  later,  one  of  the  men  at  300  Mill- 


Cab  No.  44  265 

berry  Street  was  reading  over  that  description 
carefully.  He  did  not  think  much  of  it.  He 
wanted  to  know  something  about  the  clothes 
Fletcher  had  on  when  last  seen,  and  was  specially 
inquisitive  as  to  the  probable  motive  for  his 
disappearance.  Was  he  in  trouble,  or  in  love? 
Did  he  drink,  or  use  drugs?  Had  he  done  any- 
thing that  was  worrying  him?  Or  had  he  just 
dropped  out  of  sight?  Had  he  any  money  about 
him  at  the  time,  that  he  might  have  been  robbed 
of? 

McBride  had  no  idea  that  he  would  be  asked 
so  many  questions.  He  thought  the  description 
of  the  man's  appearance  was  quite  enough; 
which  made  the  officer  smile.  The  most  impor- 
tant thing  of  all,  the  officer  told  him,  was  where 
he  was  last  seen  alive,  and  by  whom.  McBride 
promised  to  find  that  out,  and  bring  the  infor- 
mation next  day.  Somehow  or  other,  he  was 
glad  to  get  out  of  that  office.  He  felt  that  he 
might  make  a  slip  any  moment,  and  that  the 
officer  would  see  through  the  whole  thing,  and 
lock  him  up  as  a  witness.  He  would  then  have 
to  account  for  his  knowledge  of  the  Ardmore 
gang's  affairs. 

That  night  every  police  platoon  that  went  on 
duty  in  New  York  City  heard  a  description  of 
Mr,  Milton  Fletcher  read  out  at  the  station- 


266  Cab  No.  44 

house.  From  that  day  on,  every  policeman  in 
New  York  was  supposed  to  have  a  special  eye 
out  for  a  handsome  young  man  about  six  feet 
tall,  with  black  hair;  very  quick  and  active  in 
his  movements,  and  with  an  English  accent.  As 
there  are  two  or  three  such  descriptions  read 
out  every  night,  it  is  more  than  probable  that 
this  one  did  not  make  any  particular  impression. 
Fletcher's  own  observation  would  probably 
apply,  that  as  there  was  no  financial  inducement 
for  any  officer  to  devote  his  time  and  attention 
to  that  particular  case,  it  would  have  to  take 
its  chance  with  the  rest.  But  Helen  Ohlstrom 
felt  serenely  confident  that  the  police  would  find 
Hardy  Maxwell  before  morning.  Such  is  the 
popular  belief  in  the  power  of  forces  with  which 
we  are  not  acquainted. 


ON  Friday  morning  Johnson  was  pacing 
up  and  down  the  hall  when  McBride 
arrived  at  the  office.  The  confidential 
clerk  did  not  expect  him  so  early,  but  he  had 
arranged  a  little  signal  with  the  office  boy  that 
would  call  up  Mr.  Groscup  at  once.  McBride 
knew  the  detective  by  sight,  having  seen  him 
enter  the  private  office  with  Hartley,  so  he  ad- 
dressed him  by  name  and  asked  him  to  come 
inside. 

Mr.  Hartley's  absence  from  the  city  was 
briefly  explained  as  unexpected  and  unavoidable. 
Mr.  McBride's  position  as  his  confidential  sec- 
retary was  also  explained,  dilated  on,  in  fact; 
but  Johnson  was  wary.  The  first  thing  he  asked 
for  was  the  letter.  Had  Mr.  Hartley  left  one 
for  him? 

"Why  really,  I  don't  remember  it,  you  know. 
He  may  have  left  it  among  some  papers  that  he 
told  me  would  explain  themselves.  What  was 
it  about?" 

Johnson  did  not  seem  very  willing  to  enter 
into  explanations ;  but  seemed  to  be  put  out  that 
the  letter  was  not  ready  for  him.  He  was 
267 


268'  Cab  No.  44 

wondering  just  how  much  this  confidential  clerk 
knew,  and  just  how  much  he  could  be  trusted. 
It  was  a  difficult  situation  to  handle,  but  with 
the  instinct  of  a  true  diplomat,  Johnson  decided 
to  let  the  other  man  do  the  talking. 

Just  then  the  boy  tapped  on  the  door ;  put  his 
head  in  and  said:  "Not  downtown  yet,  sir." 
McBride  nodded  that  he  understood. 

The  idea  that  was  uppermost  in  McBride's 
mind  was  to  discover,  if  possible,  how  Miss 
Stewart  had  been  mistaken  for  Miss  Ohlstrom; 
but  at  the  same  time  he  realized  the  importance 
of  avoiding  any  mention  of  Miss  Ohlstrom. 
That  would  immediately  put  the  detective  on  her 
track;  perhaps  with  unpleasant  consequences. 
He  had  not  the  slightest  idea  what  the  letter 
promised  by  Mr.  Hartley  should  have  referred 
to,  so  he  could  not  begin  on  that  clue.  The 
only  thing  upon  which  he  was  at  all  sure  of  his 
ground,  was  the  slip  of  paper  that  Hartley  had 
sent  over  to  Groscup,  bearing  Miss  Stewart's 
name  and  address.  Why  not  begin  on  that? 

"Mr.  Hartley  told  me  that  you  had  followed 
a  young  lady  from  this  office  one  morning  last 
week,"  he  began,  "and  had  traced  her  to  a  cer- 
tain address,  which  you  gave  him.  I  suppose 
you  have  established  the  fact  that  she  is  a  Mrs. 
Maxwell?" 


Cab  No.  44  269 

The  detective  was  evidently  taken  aback. 
He  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  say,  and  not 
being  as  ready  with  subterfuges  as  Mr.  Hart- 
ley, he  could  not  find  words  to  conceal  his 
thoughts,  so  he  kept  silent.  He  could  not 
imagine  how  to  account  for  Mr.  Hartley's  ex- 
traordinary statement  that  he  had  followed 
Miss  Stewart  from  that  office.  Seeing  that  he 
was  expected  to  say  something,  he  twisted  his 
slouch  hat  a  little  and  looked  at  the  floor  for 
fully  a  minute  before  he  spoke. 

"Well,  it's  not  quite  clear  to  me  yet,  sir," 
and  then  he  stopped,  not  knowing  what  more  to 
say,  and  not  being  very  clear  in  his  own  mind 
as  to  what  he  was  talking  about.  He  still 
wanted  to  gain  time. 

"I  suppose  you  have  no  idea  where  Mr.  Max- 
well is  now,"  the  young  man  went  on,  sparring 
for  an  opening. 

"Well,  I  know  where  part  of  him  is,  sir. 
But  I  don't  know  where  his  head  is,  sir.  I  wish 
I  did." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  inquired  McBride,  in 
evident  astonishment. 

"Excuse  me,  sir,"  the  detective  said  hurriedly, 
"but  I  supposed  that  Mr.  Hartley  had  told  you 
my  theory  of  it." 

"He  did.     But  you  see  he  didn't  agree  with 


270  Cab  No.  44 

it."  This  was  a  shot  at  a  venture.  McBride 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  to  what  theory  the 
detective  was  referring. 

"I  thought  he  didn't,  sir.  But  it's  pretty  clear 
to  me,  sir.  Part  of  Mr.  Maxwell  is  in  chemi- 
cals at  the  morgue,  and  the  rest  of  him  is  still 
in  the  river  somewhere." 

"But  you  don't  mean  to  say "  gasped  the 

young  man. 

"Sure  I  do,  sir.  I'm  as  certain  of  it  as  I'm 
sitting  here.  It  was  Maynard  murdered  him, 
in  that  cab.  Both  of  'em  disappeared  the  same 
night.  I  traced  the  cab  to  Maynard." 

"What!  You  mean  that  cab  they  found  by 
the  river  two  or  three  weeks  ago?" 

"That's  the  one,  sir.  Maynard  hired  that 
cab,  or  stole  it,  and  had  his  pal  on  the  box.  He 
called  for  Stewart,  or  Walton,  or  Fletcher,  or 
whatever  you  call  him,  at  his  hotel  and  took  him 
away  in  that  cab.  Cut  him  up.  Threw  him 
in  the  river."  Johnson  made  appropriate  mo- 
tions with  his  hands  to  illustrate  the  tragedy. 

"You  must  be  crazy.  Why  haven't  the  police 
arrested  Maynard  long  ago?  I  thought  there 
was  no  clue  whatever  to  the  victim;  much  less 
to  the  murderer." 

"Well,  sir,  it's  hard  to  prove  it,  you  know; 
but  that's  my  theory.  Mr.  Hartley,  he  engaged 


Cab  No.  44  271' 

me  on  this  job  to  follow  Mr.  Fletcher  two  weeks 
ago  Monday,  as  you  know,  sir.  We  shadowed 
him  for  three  days ;  but  the  only  person  we  could 
find  him  connecting  with  was  this  Miss  Stewart. 
It's  her  address  I  gave  Mr.  Hartley,  sir.  I  got 
it  following  Fletcher.  I  never  knew  she  was 
at  this  office  till  Mr.  Hartley  told  me,  sir." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  McBrideTs  tongue  to  tell 
Johnson  that  Miss  Stewart  was  never  in  that 
office;  but  he  caught  himself  just  in  time. 

"Mr.  Hartley  probably  told  you,  sir,"  look- 
ing at  him  inquiringly,  "that  we  was  to  watch 
for  Mr.  Fletcher  at  the  Earlswood  Hotel  that 
Thursday  night." 

"Yes,  I  know  all  about  that,"  said  McBride 
quickly,  seeing  that  the  detective  was  evidently 
feeling  his  way. 

"But  he  never  showed  up.  No  one  hasn't 
seen  him  since.  Nor  Maynard  neither."  These 
statements  were  each  accompanied  by  emphatic 
nods.  "I  followed  up  a  clue  I  had  at  the  Real- 
ton,  where  Fletcher  was  stopping,  and  I  made 
up  my  mind  by  putting  this  and  that  together 
that  this  here  Cab  No.  44,  which  was  at  the 
hotel  that  night  pretty  late,  was  brought  there 
by  Maynard.  And  he  went  away  in  it,"  with 
another  nod.  "And  no  one  ain't  seen  him  since," 
with  a  still  more  emphatic  nod* 


272  Cab  No.  44 

"But  what  has  that  got  to  do  with  Maxwell, 
or  Fletcher?  Where  does  he  come  in?" 

"Maynard  sent  up  his  card  to  him  at  the 
hotel,  and  waited  around  for  him  half  an  hour." 

"Did  they  drive  off  together?" 

"Now  you've  got  me,  sir.  That's  the  place 
where  my  trail  is  lost.  I'm  only  surmising  the 
rest  of  it ;  but  it's  a  good  working  theory.  Don't 
you  think  so,  sir?" 

"Then  you  think  that  Maxwell  is  murdered? 
Why  don't  you  explain  your  theory  to  the  police 
and  let  them  help  you?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  think  he's  the  fellow  that's  in 
the  river.  But  I'm  not  giving  my  theory  away 
to  the  police.  They  would  claim  all  the  credit 
for  it  themselves,  sir,  and  throw  me  out. 
They're  kind  of  down  on  private  detectives,  you 
know,  sir.  They  hate  to  have  any  one  smarter 
than  they  is,  sir,  the  police  do.  There's  more 
money  in  giving  the  steer  to  the  papers,  sir,  than 
to  the  police.  That's  my  game  when  I'm 
through  with  Mr.  Hartley." 

"What  was  the  motive  for  murdering  him?" 
McBride  asked,  not  noticing  the  last  part  of  the 
detective's  remarks. 

"Now  you've  got  me  again,  sir.  I  can't  find 
out  much  about  this  Maynard,  except  that  he 
shot  and  killed  a  man  once  before.  Wasn't 


Cab  No.  44.  '273 

never  tried  for  it,  seemingly.  These  fellows 
that  are  in  society  are  pretty  hard  to  trace  when 
it  comes  to  their  private  lives,  sir.  What  the 
papers  print  about  them  is  mostly  guess  work. 
The  motive,  as  you  say,  sir;  that's  what  stumps 
me." 

"Then  the  whole  police  force  of  New  York 
are  looking  for  a  dead  man,"  Mr.  McBride  re- 
marked, musingly,  as  if  talking  to  himself. 

"There's  no  one  looking  for  him,  sir.  The 
police  don't  know  nothing  about  it.  Mr.  Hart- 
ley's paying  me  to  keep  quiet  about  my  views, 
sir.  But  it's  hard,  sir.  It's  very  hard,  with  the 
papers  ready  to  pay  big  money  for  tips  like  what 
I  could  give  'em." 

"But  I  sent  out  a  general  alarm  for  Milton 
Fletcher  last  night.  I  gave  the  police  a  com- 
plete description  of  him." 

Mr.  Johnson  gave  a  violent  start.  "For 
mercy's  sake,  sir!  And  what  did  you  say  he 
was  wanted  for?  Did  you  tell  them  he  was 
one  of  the  Ardmore  gang?" 

"Not  at  all.  I  just  described  the  man,  and 
asked  them  to  find  him.  What  proof  have  you 
that  he  was  one  of  that  gang?" 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  detective,  shaking  his 
head,  "that's  too  long  a  story  to  go  over  again 
now.  But  if  you'd  have  told  the  police  to  find 


274  Cab  No.  44 

Maynard,  sir,  you'd  have  some  fun.  To  have 
the  whole  force  looking  for  a  dead  man,  and 
they  having  parts  of  him  in  chemicals  at  the 
morgue.  Why,  that's  positively  funny,  sir;  that 
is." 

McBride  turned  over  several  things  in  his 
mind  and  started  on  a  new  tack.  "You  will  ex- 
cuse me,  Mr.  Johnson ;  but  I  cannot  quite  recon- 
cile your  statement  that  it  was  in  following  Mr. 
Fletcher,  or  Maxwell,  nearly  three  weeks  ago, 
that  you  came  across  Miss  Stewart;  and  Mr. 
Hartley's  statement  that  the  first  time  you  ever 
saw  Miss  Stewart  was  when  you  followed  her 
from  this  office,  only  last  week." 

Mr.  Johnson  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "That's 
his  business,  sir.  It's  my  private  opinion,  sir, 
that  Mr.  Hartley  knows  a  good  deal  more  about 
Mr.  Fletcher  than  he  cares  to  tell.  I'm  think- 
ing he  knows  considerable  about  Miss  Stewart, 
too,  sir.  It  was  a  letter  of  introduction  to  her 
I  was  to  get  here  this  morning,  sir.  She's  the 
only  chance  we  have  to  find  out  anything  more 
about  Fletcher,  who  he  was  and  where  he  come 
from.  In  the  meantime,  I'm  doing  all  I  can 
on  my  own  account  to  locate  Mr.  Paul  May- 
nard." 

"I  can  introduce  you  to  Miss  Stewart  any 
time." 


Cab  No.  44  '2751 

"The  deuce  you  can,  sir !" 

"Yes.  What  Mr.  Hartley  wants  more  than 
anything  else  at  present,  he  tells  me,  is  to  es- 
tablish beyond  question  the  fact  that  this  Mrs. 
Stewart,  as  she  calls  herself  is  really  Mrs.  Max- 
well, or  Mrs.  Fletcher,  whichever  you  please." 
Mr.  McBride  gasped  at  his  own  temerity  in 
making  this  statement.  But  why  should  he  not 
seize  this  opportunity  to  obtain  the  proofs  which 
would  set  all  doubts  on  Miss  Ohlstrom's  part 
at  rest?  No  matter  whether  Maxwell  were  dead 
or  alive;  if  he  were  a  married  man,  that  would 
be  more  than  enough. 

"Well,  it  wouldn't  do  for  me  to  tackle  her 
myself,  sir.  We  have  a  man  that's  been  try- 
ing to  get  acquainted  with  her  for  two  weeks. 
If  you  would  introduce  him,  it  would  be  what 
Mr.  Hartley's  been  after  for  some  time,  sir." 

McBride  made  some  remark  about  the  man's 
not  having  been  very  wide-awake  if  it  took  him 
two  weeks  to  make  that  acquaintance,  when  he 
knew  of  some  one  that  had  done  it  in  a  few 
hours.  Had  he  known  that  the  handsome  Mr. 
Frank  Doremus,  who  was  supposed  to  have  that 
matter  in  hand,  had  no  existence  outside  Mr. 
Johnson's  imagination,  and  that  Mr,  Johnson 
himself  was  not  wasting  any  time  on  Miss 
Stewart,  he  might  have  spared  Johnson  the 


276  Cab  No.  44 

necessity  of  blushing  slightly,  and  laughing  in 
his  sleeve  at  the  same  time. 

McBride  wrote  the  name  of  the  Second 
Avenue  cafe  on  a  slip  of  paper,  and  handed  it 
to  the  detective.  "Bring  your  man  there  to- 
morrow night  at  six,  and  I  will  introduce  him." 

"All  right,  sir.  In  the  meantime,  sir,  I  hope 
you  won't  say  anything  about  my  theory  of  the 
cab  business  to  any  one,  sir;  specially  to  the 
police.  They  wouldn't  give  me  no  credit  for 
nothing,  sir.  If  there  is  anything  in  that  job 
when  Mr.  Hartley's  through  with  me,  sir;  I'd 
like  to  make  a  bit  out  of  it  for  myself  through 
the  papers." 

"You  can  trust  me.  In  fact,  Mr.  Hartley 
told  me  that  anything  you  might  tell  me  was  to 
go  no  further.  And,"  he  added  slowly,  glanc- 
ing at  his  desk;  "if  you  want  any  money,  you 
are  to  have  whatever  you  call  for  for  yourself 
and  Doremus.  It  might  be  worth  a  little  extra 
if  you  could  get  the  proofs  of  that  marriage  in 
my  hands  quickly." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  Of  course,  sir,  a  little  cash 
always  comes  in  handy.  Expenses  has  to  be  met 
in  this  line,  you  know,  sir." 

"How  about  a  couple  of  hundred?" 

"Thank  you  very  much,  sir." 

McBride  excused  himself  for  a  minute  and 


Cab  No.  44  277 

then  returned  with  the  bills.  Johnson  stuffed 
them  into  his  pocket,  and  promised  there  should 
be  no  mistake  about  the  meeting  next  night  at 
the  cafe.  He  would  soon  get  the  proofs  of  that 
marriage  for  him. 

Johnson  himself  appeared  at  the  appointed 
time.  Mr.  Doremus  was  sick,  he  said,  but 
Johnson  would  pass  the  introduction  along.  He 
was  dressed  for  the  occasion,  and  McBride  could 
not  help  smiling  at  the  change  in  his  appearance, 
although  he  was  evidently  very  ill  at  ease  in  a 
dinner  coat,  and  looked  for  all  the  world  like  a 
waiter. 

The  head-waiter  approached  them  and  bowed 
very  low  to  McBride,  who  whispered  a  question 
to  him.  The  waiter  was  very  sorry;  but  madam 
would  not  be  there  again.  She  had  dined  there 
last  night,  and  had  said  good-by  to  him.  She 
was  sailing  for  Europe  to-day,  and  was  already 
on  the  high  seas. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE  next  morning,  McBride  lay  back  in 
his  easy  chair  and  thought  things 
over,  Helen  Ohlstrom  being  the  cen- 
tral figure  round  which  his  reflections  revolved. 
The  departure  of  Mrs.  Stewart  had  been  quite 
a  blow.  She  had  undoubtedly  gone  to  join  Mr. 
Maxwell.  The  hoped  for  proofs  of  that  mar- 
riage seemed  a  long  way  off  now. 

He  had  been  particularly  annoyed  by  observ- 
ing that  in  all  his  meetings  with  Miss  Ohlstrom, 
she  had  regarded  him  chiefly  as  some  one  who 
could  talk  about  Hardy  Maxwell;  or  who  would 
bring  her  news  of  Maxwell;  or  who  would  help 
her  to  find  Maxwell.  He  was  especially  hurt 
when  he  thought  of  the  eagerness  with  which 
she  had  described  Mr.  Maxwell  for  the  benefit 
of  the  police,  and  how  she  had  enlarged  upon 
his  being  so  tall  and  handsome. 

He  had  found  the  task  of  cutting  out  his 
rival  much  more  difficult  than  he  had  expected. 
If  any  one  had  asked  his  opinion  a  week  be- 
fore, he  would  unhesitatingly  have  said  that  any 
girl  would  throw  a  man  over  if  she  found  he 
had  run  away  from  her  without  a  word  of  fare- 
278 


Cab  No.  44  279" 

well  or  explanation.  If  that  was  not  enough, 
the  knowledge  that  he  was  a  well-known  crim- 
inal would  have  decided  her.  If  there  were  any 
doubt  about  that,  she  certainly  could  not  with- 
stand the  blow  of  finding  that  he  had  been  pay- 
ing attention  to  another  woman — was  probably 
married  even — all  the  time  he  had  been  making 
love  to  her. 

These  little  things  did  not  seem  to  affect 
Helen  Ohlstrom.  The  man  on  whom  she  had 
wasted  her  affections  was  clearly  a  liar,  travel- 
ing under  a  number  of  false  names.  He  was 
undoubtedly  a  forger.  He  had  unquestionably 
been  seen  with  another  woman;  he  had  dined 
with  her  often  in  a  public  cafe.  There  seemed 
little  doubt  that  he  was  a  married  man. 
McBride  could  not  see  why  Miss  Ohlstrom 
should  not  cease  to  speak  of  him  even.  She 
should  hate  the  very  memory  of  him,  and  do 
her  best  to  forget  that  such  a  creature  had  ever 
crossed  her  path.  But  Helen  Ohlstrom  was  ob- 
stinate to  exasperation.  Now  he  could  go  to 
her  and  tell  her  that  Mr.  Maxwell  was  dead. 
That  would  be  a  non  sequitur,  and  she  would 
probably  come  to  her  senses.  That  any  woman 
could  be  proof  against  such  an  accumulation 
of  accusations  and  proofs  against  her  faithless 
lover  seemed  incredible;  but  that  she  would  hold 


Cab  No.  441 


on  to  him  after  he  was  dead  was  impossible. 
Once  this  rascal  Maxwell  was  out  of  her  mind, 
McBride  felt  that  he  would  have  a  clear  field. 
The  sooner  that  state  of  affairs  could  be  brought 
about,  the  better. 

He  called  on  her  that  evening,  and  ap- 
proached the  explanation  as  gently  as  he  could; 
because  he  did  not  want  a  repetition  of  the 
scene  at  the  Athletic-  Club.  He  did  not  tell  her 
that  Maxwell  was  murdered.  That  could  come 
later.  It  would  be  enough  to  say  that  he  had 
fallen  into  the  river,  and  that  his  body  had  only 
just  been  identified. 

She  did  not  cry.  She  listened  as  if  he  were 
talking  about  something  that  had  happened  to 
some  one  else,  with  which  she  had  nothing  to  do. 
She  arrived  at  the  source  of  his  information 
with  a  very  few  sharp  questions,  and  then  re- 
marked dryly: 

"Another  story  that  Mr.  Hartley  is  mixed 
up  in."  She  shook  her  head  and  said  she  did 
not  believe  a  word  of  it. 

McBride  went  over  all  his  arguments  again. 
It  was  perfectly  useless.  He  hoped  she  would  ask 
him  how  Mr.  Maxwell  came  to  be  in  the  river, 
and  he  tried  to  lead  her  to  that  question  by  sug- 
gesting that  his  death  was  the  simple  and  only 
explanation  of  her  not  hearing  from  him.  But 


Cab  No.  44  281 

she  did  not  seem  to  care  what  explanation  might 
be  offered  to  account  for  his  being  drowned. 
She  didn't  care  if  he  had  run  away,  she  said, 
and  she  did  not  believe  he  was  dead.  She  didn't 
care  anything  about  his  change  of  name;  and  she 
didn't  believe  he  was  a  forger.  She  did  not  care 
if  he  did  dine  with  another  woman  every  night; 
but  she  didn't  believe  he  was  married  to  her. 
Finally  she  said  she  didn't  care  if  he  was 
married;  she  didn't  care  if  he  was  dead.  She 
said  she  was  going  to  stick  to  Hardy  Maxwell 
until  he  told  her  those  things  himself,  even  if 
she  had  to  wait  until  the  next  world  for  the  ex- 
planation. 

McBride  frankly  expressed  his  amazement  at 
such  mad  infatuation,  especially  when  wasted 
on  such  a  worthless  object.  It  seemed  to  him 
to  be  a  sin. 

"No,  it  is  not  a  sin,"  she  said  slowly,  play- 
ing with  the  tassel  on  the  arm  of  her  easy  chair, 
and  gazing  into  the  fire.  "We  cannot  all  be 
good,  Mr.  McBride,  any  more  than  we  can  be 
great  or  clever.  Our  natures  do  not  admit  it. 
But  there  is  one  virtue  we  may  all  possess  if  we 
will  only  cultivate  it.  We  can  at  least  be  loyal  to 
our  friends." 

"But  you  surely  do  not  call  one  a  friend  who 
has  grossly  deceived  you;  who  has  given  you  a 


282  Cab  No.  44 

false  name;  who  has  flirted  with  another 
woman;  who  has  shown  himself  a  coward  and 
a  cad  by  running  away  without  even  saying  good- 
by,  even  if  he  is  not  the  forger  and  rascal  that 
he  seems  to  be?  Why,  I  should  think  you  would 
loathe  the  very  thought  that  such  a  person  had 
ever  held  a  place  in  your  affections  for  a 
moment." 

"I  don't  care  what  you  say  against  him,  Mr. 
McBride,"  she  said,  quietly  but  sadly,  as  the 
tears  rose  in  her  eyes,  "some  women  go  through 
life  without  ever  meeting  the  man  they  really 
love — the  one  man  in  the  whole  world  that  has 
that  subtle  fascination  for  them  that  no  woman 
can  feel  more  than  once.  Those  that  do  meet 
the  right  man  go  one  of  two  ways;  to  heaven 
with  him;  to  the  other  place  without  him.  If 
the  first  path  is  not  open  to  me,  I  will  take  the 
second." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

HREE  weeks  had  passed  since  the 
bloody  cab  had  been  discovered  on 
the  dock,  and  the  fourth  week  began. 
On  Saturday  the  thirty  days  would  expire;  but 
so  far  from  there  being  any  sign  of  the  solution 
of  the  mystery,  both  the  public  and  the  police 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  about  it.  All  John- 
son's efforts  to  locate  the  fugitive  Paul  May- 
nard  had  failed,  and  he  had  to  be  content  to 
nurse  his  pet  theory  of  the  cab  murder  in  his 
own  bosom.  In  spite  of  such  additional  infor- 
mation as  McBride  cared  to  give,  the  police  pro- 
fessed to  be  unable  to  find  any  trace  of  Mil- 
ton Fletcher.  McBride  had  not  thought  it  ad- 
visable to  follow  out  Johnson's  suggestion  by 
asking  them  to  find  Mr.  Paul  Maynard. 

Helen  Ohlstrom  still  refused  to  believe  that 
Hardy  Maxwell  was  either  dead  or  married,  or 
had  ever  been  in  love  with  another  woman  while 
she  knew  him,  or  had  ever  committed  any  for- 
geries, or  belonged  to  any  gangs.  He  had  met 
with  some  accident,  probably  in  another  town, 
and  when  he  was  able  to  write  to  her  he  would. 
283 


284  Cab  No.  44 

No  matter  how  unreasonable  that  theory  might 
be,  it  was  hopeful,  and  on  that  hope  she  lived. 

Madge  was  no  longer  so  anxious,  apparently, 
to  impress  upon  her  friend  the  desirability  of 
forgetting  Hardy  Maxwell.  Perhaps  the  reason 
for  this  change  in  her  attitude  was  that  she  had 
met  McBride. 

"These  lovers  are  really  very  tiresome,"  she 
remarked  to  a  girl  friend  one  day.  "The  last 
time  I  was  at  Helen's,  I  could  hardly  keep  from 
yawning.  Mr.  McBride  was  there,  and  the  one 
absorbing  topic  of  conversation  seemed  to  be 
speculations  as  to  what  might  have  happened 
to  that  scamp  Maxwell." 

"What  is  Mr.  McBride's  interest  in  Mr. 
Maxwell?  I  should  not  think  he  would  care 
to  discuss  the  Englishman  so  much  if  he  was 
as  fond  of  Helen  himself  as  you  imagine  he  is." 

"Goodness  knows!  I  used  to  try  to  bring 
Helen  to  her  senses  by  telling  her  that  it  was 
ridiculous  to  believe  that  a  man  could  not  find 
some  means  of  writing  a  note  or  sending  a  mes- 
sage if  he  was  alive.  But  the  only  effect  was 
to  make  Helen  go  over  all  the  absurd  possibili- 
ties again.  I  believe  she  is  going  crazy  on  that 
subject.  When  I  asked  him  why  he  humored 
Helen  so  much  Mr.  McBride  told  me  that  the 
only  way  he  could  make  himself  agreeable  to 


Cab  No.  44  285 

her  was  to  talk  about  Hardy  Maxwell.  As  long 
as  he  kept  to  that  subject,  he  said,  she  would 
listen  forever." 

"Very  good  of  him  to  make  a  martyr  of  him- 
self that  way,  just  to  please  her,  don't  you 
think?" 

"Well,  I  told  him  I  did  not  care  to  hear  any- 
thing further  about  Mr.  Maxwell  and  that  he 
could  talk  to  me  about  anything  he  liked.  And, 
would  you  believe  it,  all  he  could  talk  about  was 
Helen !  I  really  think  he  is  just  as  much  in 
love  with  her  as  she  is  with  Mr.  Maxwell." 

In  reaching  this  conclusion  Madge  was  per- 
fectly correct.  Mr.  Hartley's  wish  had  been  ful- 
filled, and  the  mortgage  he  hoped  for  on  his 
confidential  clerk's  attention  was  ready  for  fore- 
closure. Mr.  McBride  had  met  Miss  Right. 

The  hopelessness  of  his  passion  was  becoming 
more  apparent  every  day;  but  he  could  not  tear 
himself  from  it.  Every  time  he  saw  her  he  be- 
came more  madly  in  love  with  her.  Sometimes 
as  he  sat  looking  at  her  he  would  long  for  the 
good  old  days  of  the  middle  ages,  when  he  could 
have  snatched  her  from  her  home  and  carried 
her  off  to  some  ancient  fortress  in  some  lonely 
forest,  bidding  defiance  to  her  family  and  her 
feelings  at  the  same  time. 

Mr.  Groscup  was  quite  satisfied  that  the  storm 


286  Cab  No.  44 

had  blown  over,  and  he  had  cabled  to  Mr. 
Frank  Douglas  to  come  home.  McBride  had 
advised  Mr.  Hartley  that  unless  he  had  any  fur- 
ther use  for  Johnson,  it  would  be  just  as  well 
to  stop  that  drain  on  his  finances;  because  the 
said  Johnson  was  not  at  all  bashful  about  draw- 
ing money  for  the  "expenses"  of  himself  and 
the  handsome  Mr.  Frank  Doremus,  who 
seemed  to  be  still  engaged  on  the  case,  although 
the  person  for  whose  benefit  he  was  employed 
had  disappeared  from  the  scene. 

Mr.  Frank  Douglas  arrived  at  quarantine  on 
Friday  night,  too  late  to  land;  but  he  found 
letters  for  him,  telling  him  that  Mr.  Groscup 
and  Dr.  Ramie  would  be  at  the  dock  to  meet 
him  in  the  morning,  and  adding  that  everything 
was  quiet  on  the  Potomac.  He  knew  what  that 
meant,  and  he  was  glad  to  hear  it.  He  had 
eagerly  searched  all  the  newspapers  that  came 
on  board,  to  see  if  there  were  any  item  about 
the  mystery  of  Cab  No.  44.  Apparently  that 
incident  was  entirely  forgotten,  so  many  and 
much  more  interesting  events  had  happened 
since. 

The  doctor  was  very  glad  to  see  the  return- 
ing capitalist,  and  congratulated  him  on  his  fine 
appearance.  Of  course  Douglas'  first  question 
was  about  the  cab,  and  he  could  not  help  ex- 


Cab  No.  44  287 

pressing  his  astonishment  that  no  one  had  recog- 
nized Maynard's  ring.  The  fact  that  two 
known  men  and  an  unknown  cab-driver,  could 
completely  disappear  at  the  same  time  that  the 
tragedy  happened,  and  no  one  even  notice  the 
coincidence,  was  beyond  him.  The  lawyer  told 
him  that  it  was  nothing  but  his  guilty  knowledge 
that  supplied  the  connection  which  no  one  else 
had  even  dreamed  of.  Even  if  they  knew  that 
two  men  and  a  cab-driver  had  disappeared, 
which  they  didn't,  he  said,  New  York  was  a 
large  place,  and  many  people  drop  out  of  sight 
every  day  without  exciting  as  much  comment  as 
a  stickful  in  the  papers. 

"And  that  fellow  Fletcher,"  Douglas  went 
on,  as  they  strolled  up  and  down  the  dock,  wait- 
ing for  the  baggage  to  come  ashore,  "pity  he 
turned  out  to  be  a  wrong-un,  you  know.  I  could 
have  used  him  in  my  business;  and  put  him  in 
the  way  of  making  a  great  deal  more  every  year 
than  that  paltry  five  thousand  he  killed  May- 
nard  for.  No  sign  of  him?" 

"No.  Not  even  a  suspicion,"  said  the  doctor 
with  a  laugh.  "Eh,  Groscup?" 

The  lawyer  did  not  quite  agree.  He  called 
the  doctor's  attention  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  Doug- 
las was  not  aware  of  the  later  developments 
with  regard  to  Mr.  Fletcher's  past,  and  then  he 


288  Cab  No.  44 

proceeded  to  explain  briefly  to  Mr.  Douglas 
that  Mr.  Fletcher  could  never  have  availed  him- 
self of  Mr.  Douglas'  good  intention  to  make 
use  of  him  in  a  business  way,  as  the  police  were 
after  him  for  crimes  only  a  little  less  serious 
than  the  one  of  which  they  knew. 

Douglas  did  not  seem  inclined  to  believe  it. 
"I  liked  that  fellow,"  he  said  frankly.  "He 
seemed  to  me  to  be  the  real  stuff.  I  make  my 
money  sizing  up  the  men  I  meet  with  and  the 
yarns  they  spin  to  me.  Any  man  may  commit 
murder.  We  can't  judge  him  until  we  know 
what  drove  him  to  it.  But  if  that  fellow 
Fletcher  was  a  thief  or  a  forger,  I'll  own  up 
I  never  was  so  badly  fooled  in  my  life." 

The  doctor  smiled.  "You're  not  fooled  on 
one  thing,  Mr.  Douglas,"  he  said,  "Fletcher 
was  smart  enough  not  to  be  caught.  At  least 
he  has  only  about  ten  hours  more  to  stay  hid, 
and  you  get  your  money  all  right.  Your  judg- 
ment was  good  enough  to  pick  the  winner 
in  that  little  bet.  Come  up  to  Green's  to-night 
at  eight  o'clock  and  I'll  hand  over  the  stakes. 
This  is  the  day,  you  know." 

"You  don't  catch  me  going  near  Green's," 
said  Douglas,  rather  emphatically.  "I  should 
have  a  blue  funk  if  I  went  in  there  again.  I 
have  never  been  able  to  forget  that  bloody 


Cab  No.  44  289 

pocket-book,  and  that  fellow  Fletcher,  pale  as  a 
ghost,  backing  out  of  the  door  with  his  watch 
in  his  hand,  telling  us  not  to  move  for  twenty 
minutes.  My!  It  gives  me  the  shivers  yet.  I 
know  I'll  be  like  Maynard.  Remember  that 
yarn  of  his?  Yes.  I'll  fall  into  the  arms  of  the 
first  cop  that  looks  at  me." 

"But  you  must  come  to  Green's  to-night  at 
eight,   as  agreed.     Hartley  will  be  there,  and 
Mr.  Groscup  has  promised  to  come  up,  as  he  is 
interested  in  the  case.  I  have  reserved  the  room." 
"Not  the  same  room,  I  hope?" 
"Yes,  the  same  room.     Why  not?" 
"Can't  stand  it,  my  dear  doctor.    I  should  say 
or  do  something  that  would  give  the  whole  thing 
away,  I  know.     I  believe  if  I  saw  a  spot  on  the 
table-cloth  I'd  shriek.     Too  much  of  Banquo's 
ghost  about  that  place  for  me.     Come  up  to 
my  club,  or  some  other  restaurant.     Anywhere 
but  that  room  of  Green's." 

But  the  doctor  insisted  on  Green's.  That  was 
the  agreement,  and  even  if  he  stayed  only  long 
enough  to  hear  the  clock  strike  eight  and  get 
Mr.  Hartley's  acknowledgment  that  Fletcher 
had  not  been  found  within  the  time  specified,  he 
must  come.  Finally,  after  both  men  had  argued 
him  into  it,  he  agreed  to  be  at  Green's  on  time 
that  evening. 


UPON  Hartley's  return,  which  was  on 
Friday,  he  had  been  in  no  hurry,  ap- 
parently, to  dispense  with  Johnson's 
services.  He  seemed  rather  anxious,  however, 
to  discover  how  much  his  confidential  clerk  had 
learned  about  the  mission  upon  which  Johnson 
had  been  originally  engaged,  and  how  much  they 
had  exchanged  confidences. 

The  manner  in  which  the  ground  seemed  to 
have  opened  and  swallowed  Milton  Fletcher 
was  a  never-ending  source  of  wonder  and  com- 
ment with  Hartley.  How  the  police  could  have 
completely  dropped  that  murder  mystery,  when 
it  seemed  to  him  that  it  should  have  been  such 
a  simple  affair,  if  they  had  only  exercised  a  little 
common  sense,  was  another  thing  he  never 
ceased  talking  about.  At  the  same  time,  he  was 
very  glad  that  there  was  apparently  no  danger 
of  his  being  drawn  into  the  case  now. 

"Mr.  Groscup  says  you  will  never  hear  any- 
thing more  about  it,"  McBride  told  him,  "unless 
Maynard  comes  back,  or  makes  a  death-bed  con- 
fession somewhere." 

"Maynard  come  back !  How  can  a  dead  man 
290 


Cab  No.  44  291 

come  back?  You  mean  Fletcher.  Oh!  Of 
course!  Yes!  I  understand.  You  have  got 
that  theory  from  Johnson.  Yes,  yes!"  and  he 
laughed  it  off,  adding  quickly,  so  as  to  change 
the  subject,  "and  how  is  Miss  Ohlstrom?" 

McBride's  color  changed  instantly.  ''She  is 
very  well,  thank  you.  Doesn't  believe  a  word  of 
it  though." 

"Doesn't  believe  a  word  of  what?" 

"Doesn't  believe  he's  a  forger,  or  a  married 
man,  or  a  dead  man,  or  anything." 

"Sticks  to  him,  eh?  Fine  girl  that.  But 
you  say  he  never  wrote  her  a  line?  Never 
tried  to  see  her,  or  anything?" 

"I  don't  see  how  a  dead  man  can  do  any- 
thing like  that  very  well,  sir." 

"That's  so!  Of  course  not!  Of  course  not! 
So  he's  dead,  is  he?  What  am  I  talking  about? 
Johnson's  theory,  of  course.  Well,  forget  it." 
He  got  up  and  cut  the  end  off  a  cigar.  After  a 
pause  he  asked: 

"By  the  way.  How  comes  it  that  you  know 
so  much  about  what  Miss  Ohlstrom  believes,  and 
how  she  is?  Been  here  again,  has  she?" 

McBride  blushed.  He  might  as  well  confess 
that  he  had  met  her  accidentally  at  the  Athletic 
Club  reception  and  had  been  introduced  to  her; 


292  Cab  No.  44 

had  called  on  her  once  or  twice  and  found  her 
very  agreeable. 

"Why,  then  she  must  be  a  respectable  girl  1" 
exclaimed  Hartley  in  evident  astonishment. 

UI  wish  you  to  understand,  sir,"  replied 
McBride  with  some  warmth,  "that  Miss  Ohl- 
strom  belongs  to  one  of  the  best  families  in  the 
city,  and  that  I  esteem  it  an  honor  to  consider 
her  a  personal  friend  of  mine." 

"Then  what  on  earth  was  she  doing  running 
with  a  professional  forger?"  Hartley  answered 
testily. 

"He  presented  forged  letters  of  introduction 
to  her  father  I  believe." 

"Then  I  advise  you  to  tell  her  that  the  sooner 
she  looks  them  up  the  better." 

"She  has  done  so,  sir.  She  expects  a  letter 
by  the  mail  that  is  due  from  England  to-mor- 
row. I  see  the  boat  is  reported  at  Nantucket 
Shoals,  and  should  be  at  Sandy  Hook  some  time 
to-night.  I  am  going  to  call  on  Miss  Ohlstrom 
to-morrow  afternoon,  to  learn  the  result  of  her 
letter  of  inquiry." 

"Indeed!  Well,  just  let  me  know  how  it 
comes  out.  I  shan't  come  down  to-morrow ;  but 
I  have  a  dinner  engagement  at  Green's  at  eight 
with  Douglas  and  Ramie.  If  you  learn  anything 
of  importance,  you  might  drop  in  there  and  let 


Cab  No.  44  293 

us  know.  We'll  be  there  for  an  hour  or  two. 
If  it  turns  out  that  he  has  presented  forged  let- 
ters of  introduction,  there  should  be  no  doubt 
about  the  rest  of  his  record." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

McBRIDE  called  upon  Helen  about 
four  o'clock;  but  no  letter  had  ar- 
rived from  England.  Her  father 
had  received  some  foreign  mail  by  that  boat 
earlier  in  the  day,  downtown,  and  she  felt  that 
there  was  no  chance  now.  She  was  evidently 
very  much  depressed  about  it,  and  stood  at  the 
window  looking  at  the  gathering  darkness,  wip- 
ing off  the  window  pane  occasionally  with  that 
peculiar  nervous  movement  which  forebodes  a 
fit  of  tears. 

McBride  had  seen  enough  of  that  sort  of 
thing,  so  he  thought  it  best  to  take  his  leave  and 
to  promise  to  call  later  in  the  evening,  as  the 
last  mail  would  not  be  delivered  until  after  six 
o'clock.  He  was  disappointed  himself  that  the 
letter  had  not  come,  and  he  hoped  it  would 
arrive  soon.  He  felt  sure  that  when  one  prop 
fell,  and  Mr.  Hardy  Maxwell's  heartless  de- 
ception was  exposed  by  the  discovery  of  his 
forged  letters,  the  whole  fabric  of  the  girl's  in- 
fatuation would  fall;  and  then,  at  last,  his  pa- 
tience would  be  rewarded.  He  had  not  been 
able  to  keep  his  promise  to  find  Maxwell  for 
294 


Cab  No.  44  295 

her.  But  he  could  keep  his  vow  to  expose  the 
Englishman. 

Helen  was  standing  at  the  window  when  he 
returned,  and  she  flew  to  the  door  to  let  him  in. 
What  a  change  two  hours  had  made !  She  was 
radiant.  She  was  a  picture.  He  had  never 
seen  her  so  beautiful  before,  as  she  rushed  into 
the  parlor  and  then  turned  and  faced  him,  wav- 
ing a  letter  in  her  hand. 

"There!"  she  said,  "I  knew  it!  I  knew  it! 
Read  that!  No ;  I'll  read  it  to  you.  No.  You 
can  read  it  yourself,"  forcing  it  into  his  hand. 
"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  that  I  never  believed  any  of 
those  horrid  things,"  she  said,  as  she  stood  fac- 
ing him  while  he  read,  her  hands  clasped  and 
trembling  with  excitement;  her  face  half  smiles 
and  half  tears. 

It  was  a  simple  letter,  which  just  filled  four 
sides  of  the  sheet,  closely  but  neatly  written  in 
a  girl's  hand.  It  was  from  Miss  Ohlstrom's 
cousin  and  read: 

"DEAR  HELEN — Mamma  asks  me  to  answer 
your  letter,  as  she  is  not  very  well.  We  are  so 
glad  you  like  Hardy  Maxwell.  We  got  a  long 
letter  from  him  about  a  week  before  yours 
came.  He  said  some  awfully  nice  things  about 
you;  in  fact  mamma  thinks  he  must  have  inten- 


296  Cab  No.  44 

tions.  But  I  suppose  you  know  all  about  that. 
I  think  he  would  be  a  perfectly  splendid  lover, 
so  tall  and  handsome. 

Papa  was  a  little  worried  because  Hardy 
wrote  that  he  had  resigned  his  position  in  Eng- 
land; but  he  said  he  had  something  more  promis- 
ing on  hand  in  America,  and  that  he  wanted 
to  stay  there  for  other  reasons.  We  could 
almost  guess  what  the  other  reasons  were,  after 
what  he  said  about  you.  You  know  he  was  chief 
of  the  foreign  service  at  Scotland  Yard,  and  the 
inspector  told  papa  he  was  the  most  promising 
man  they  had,  and  would  be  made  an  inspector 
when  he  got  back.  He  went  to  America  after 
some  bank  robbers  or  something,  and  he  was 
very  lucky.  I  think  papa  said  the  chief  of  the 
robbers  happened  to  be  on  the  same  ship,  and 
Hardy  got  put  in  the  same  cabin  with  him,  and 
the  captain  was  very  kind,  and  took  the  robber's 
bag  into  the  captain's  room  on  the  last  day,  so 
that  Hardy  could  get  it  afterwards,  and  he  found 
all  the  robber's  papers  and  things  in  it.  A  Mrs. 
Stewart,  that  papa  says  is  the  cleverest  woman 
detective  in  the  world,  was  with  Hardy,  and  she 
got  the  robber  to  make  love  to  her,  or  some- 
thing. Papa  says  she  and  Hardy  managed 
things  so  cleverly  that  they  can  arrest  all  the 
robbers  any  minute,  and  a  man  is  going  over 


Cab  No.  44  297 

this  week  to  bring  them  back;  but    I    suppose 
Hardy  has  told  you  all  about  it  himself. 

Give  Hardy  much  love  and  tell  him  to  write 
often. 

Your  affectionate  cousin, 

AGNES." 

McBride  was  speechless.  His  first  thought 
was  of  Johnson  and  his  theory  of  the  disappear- 
ance. Could  it  be  possible  that  some  of  the  gang 
had  waylaid  Hardy  Maxwell  and  finding  May- 
nard  with  him  and  in  the  way,  had  killed  them 
both?  That  would  account  for  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  two  men.  He  had  not  the  heart 
to  throw  a  cloud  over  the  happy  face  before  him 
just  then.  If  that  were  the  solution  of  the 
tragedy  in  the  cab,  it  would  come  to  light  in 
time.  But  after  reading  that  letter  he  could 
see  no  earthly  reason  why  Hardy  Maxwell 
should  not  have  written  at  least  a  line,  unless 
it  were  true  that  he  was  lying  at  the  bottom  of 
the  river. 

"Now  what  have  you  got  to  say?"  demanded 
Helen,  smiling  radiantly,  taking  the  letter  from 
him  and  holding  it  tightly  in  both  hands  as  if 
to  be  sure  that  it  was  real. 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  what  to  say," 
McBride  faltered,  beginning  to  feel  sick  at 


298  Cab  No.  44 

heart  and  discouraged  at  the  turn  things  had 
taken,  "unless  it  is  to  go  and  tell  the  police  to 
look  for  a  detective  named  Maxwell.  I  suppose 
you  still  hold  me  to  my  promise  to  find  him 
for  you,  no  matter  what  his  name  is?" 

"Now  don't  be  disagreeable,"  she  admon- 
ished, "but  tell  me  what  you  think  best  to  be 
done.  Some  one  must  know  where  he  is.  Per- 
haps detectives  do  not  give  their  real  names  to 
the  police.  Suppose  you  ask  them  if  there  is  an 
English  detective  in  town,  and  where  he  is?" 

McBride  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  suggestion,  but  at  the  same  time 
he  was  turning  over  in  his  mind  several  possi- 
bilities that  might  be  clues.  Prominent  among 
them  was  the  fact  that  Mr.  Hartley  was  to  be 
at  Green's  that  night  with  Douglas  and  Dr. 
Ramie,  and  the  business  on  hand  was  undoubt- 
edly the  settlement  of  that  little  wager  with  Mr. 
Douglas.  Mr.  Maxwell  was  the  object  of  that 
wager. 

As  soon  as  he  explained  the  situation  to  Helen 
she  felt  intuitively  that  in  some  way  or  other 
they  would  have  news  of  Hardy  Maxwell,  and 
she  was  seized  with  a  feverish  anxiety  to  learn 
what  took  place  at  that  dinner.  She  could  not 
wait  until  next  day.  Something  within  her,  one 
of  those  curious  presentiments  that  we  all  have 


Cab  No.  44  299 

sometimes,  seemed  to  urge  her.  some  voice 
seemed  to  tell  her,  to  be  as  near  that  dinner 
as  she  could  get.  She  could  feel  herself  drawn 
towards  it  like  a  magnet. 

She  asked  McBride  where  the  dinner  at  which 
he  was  to  see  Mr.  Hartley  was  to  be,  and  when 
he  told  her,  it  flashed  across  her  mind  that  there 
was  a  theatre  just  round  the  corner  and  a  play 
that  she  had  wished  to  see.  What  if  Mr. 
McBride  could  be  persuaded  to  take  her  to  that 
theatre,  and  bring  her  the  news  from  the  dinner? 

It  would  be  dreadfully  unconventional  for 
her  to  go  to  a  theatre  with  him  without  a 
chaperon,  but  she  had  done  so  many  unconven- 
tional things  lately  in  her  anxiety  to  get  some 
news  of  Hardy — going  to  men's  business  offices, 
meeting  young  men  she  did  not  know  at  athletic 
clubs,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  that  one  more 
did  not  matter. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  should  like  to  do?" 
she  began,  looking  at  McBride  archly.  "I 
should  like  to  go  somewhere."  As  she  stopped 
and  looked  up  at  him  hesitatingly,  he  felt  that 
he  would  be  willing  to  take  her  anywhere  on 
earth,  if  only  to  be  with  her  during  the  journey. 

"Well !  I  should  like  to  go  somewhere  where 
it  is  all  life  and  gaiety,  and  where  I  could  laugh 
and  cry  and  no  one  would  notice  me.  I  should 


300  Cab  No.  44 

like  to  go  to  the  theatre  and  see  a  play.  Some 
play  where  the  lovers  have  a  dreadful  time,  you 
know,  but  everything  comes  out  right  in  the  end. 
Only  I'm  afraid  I  should  shout  out  to  the 
heroine  not  to  be  discouraged,  and  not  to  pay 
any  attention  to  what  people  told  her.  I'm  sure 
I  should  do  something  silly,  and  I  know  I  should 
cry  when  it  turned  out  all  right." 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  I  do  not  know  of  any 
such  play,"  he  remarked,  without  any  particular 
show  of  enthusiasm. 

"But  I  do,"  she  said,  enthusiastically,  naming 
the  theatre, 

"Why,  that  is  right  round  the  corner  from 
Green's!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  promised  to  take 
Mr.  Hartley  a  message  at  Green's,  some  time 
between  eight  and  ten.  Would  you  really  go 
with  me?  Shall  I  see  if  I  can  get  tickets?"  he 
inquired  eagerly. 

"Oh  please  do!  I  will  be  very  nice  to  you 
to-night,  you  know;  you  have  been  so  kind  to 
me.  Oh,  won't  it  be  jolly!"  and  she  fairly 
skipped  along  the  floor  to  the  piano.  "I  will 
be  ready  in  half  an  hour.  Don't  mind  dressing 
for  the  evening,  and  I  won't  either.  You  look 
very  nice  in  that  black  suit."  A  handshake,  a 
smile,  another  glance  at  her  letter,  and  she  ran 
upstairs. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THREE  men  assembled  at  Green's  about 
a  quarter  to  eight,  and  went  into  the 
private  room  in  which  two  of  them 
had  dined  together  more  than  a  month  before. 
The  three  were  Dr.  Ramie,  Frank  Douglas, 
and  Mr.  Groscup.  Hartley  had  not  appeared 
yet.  The  table  was  already  set,  with  pretty  red 
shades  over  the  candles  and  button-hole  bouquets 
at  each  plate. 

"Good  old  New  York!"  exclaimed  Douglas, 
as  his  eye  caught  sight  of  the  cocktails  stand- 
ing by  the  plates,  for  one  of  which  he  promptly 
reached.  "Nothing  like  this  abroad,  you  know. 
Nothing  but  beastly  cold  rooms,  with  shocking 
draughts  everywhere,  and  all  the  people  yap- 
ping about  fresh  air  and  coughing  their  heads 
off  at  the  same  time.  Nothing  like  this  out- 
side little  old  New  York,"  holding  the  cocktail 
up  to  the  light,  and  then  draining  it  at  a  gulp. 
"Tell  the  waiter  to  fill  that  up  again.  The  temp- 
tation was  too  much  for  my  manners,  boys." 

A  moment  later  Hartley  burst  into  the  room, 
trembling  with  excitement.  He  did  not  even 
say  good-evening ;  and  although  Douglas  greeted 
301 


302  Cab  No.  44 

him  cordially  and  extended  his  hand,  he  took 
it  as  if  he  did  not  see  it.  He  did  not  even  take 
off  his  hat. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  demanded  the 
doctor,  astonished  at  his  manner. 

"Read  that,  will  you?"  Hartley  exclaimed, 
pulling  out  the  latest  edition  of  the  afternoon 
paper,  and  slamming  the  door  behind  him. 
"Caught  him;  on  my  word!  At  the  eleventh 
hour.  Caught  the  whole  gang.  Here  it  is  in 
the  extra,  just  out." 

Groscup  took  the  paper  and  found  that  the 
scare  headlines  announced  the  capture  of  the 
whole  Ardmore  gang,  and  all  their  parapher- 
nalia. There  were  no  particulars,  except  that 
the  leader  was  arrested  in  New  York,  and  three 
others  in  Philadelphia  and  Boston.  All  the 
arrests  had  been  made  almost  simultaneously 
with  the  arrival  of  officers  from  England  with 
extradition  warrants. 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  us?"  asked 
Douglas  bluntly. 

"Do  with  us?  Why  your  man  Fletcher  is 
Ardmore.  Didn't  you  know  that?" 

The  other  men  laughed. 

"Say,  you're  getting  nutty,  Hartley,"  re- 
marked Douglas.  "Sit  down  and  compose  your- 
self." Groscup  approached  Hartley  and  gave 


Cab  No.  44  303 

him  a  nudge,  whispering  in  his  ear,  "You  for- 
get that  these  gentlemen  did  not  employ  John- 
son." 

The  hint  had  an  immediate  and  subduing 
effect  on  Hartley,  who  cast  about  for  something 
to  distract  their  attention  from  him,  as  he  saw 
they  were  evidently  astonished  at  his  conduct. 

"What  are  all  these  places  set  for?"  he  de- 
manded. "Only  four  of  us,  and  a  table  set  for 
six." 

"We  took  the  room  as  it  was,"  explained  the 
doctor,  "and  as  the  table  is  large,  I  suppose  they 
thought  it  would  look  better  to  dress  it  as 
usual." 

"Here,  waiter,"  shouted  Douglas  to  a  waiter 
who  had  just  entered  with  some  plates,  which 
he  was  placing  on  the  side  table.  "Bring  in  two 
more  cocktails.  I  drank  two  of  these  already." 

"That  fellow's  no  waiter,"  remarked  Hartley. 
"He's  only  an  omnibus.  Wait  until  George 
comes."  Nevertheless,  the  man  disappeared 
and  brought  in  two  more  cocktails,  and  then 
stood  with  his  napkin  over  his  arm,  as  if  wait- 
ing to  receive  any  further  orders. 

"Are  you  going  to  wait  on  us?"  demanded 
Hartley,  rather  sharply.  The  waiter  bowed. 
"Then  you  are  a  full-fledged  waiter  now,  eh?" 
The  waiter  smiled. 


304  Cab  No.  44 

"I  think  ze  gentlemen  will  be  pleased  with 
me,"  he  said,  showing  his  teeth  and  bowing 
again. 

"Well,  we're  all  here,"  observed  Douglas. 
"Let's  start  in.  Five  minutes  to  eight  now. 
Got  that  check  with  you,  doc?"  The  doctor 
said  he  guessed  he  had  everything  with  him, 
and  the  four  men  sat  down. 

"Let's  clear  some  of  these  things  off,"  said 
Hartley.  "What's  the  use  of  having  all  this 
stuff  on  the  table?" 

"It  looks  nice,  I  think,"  said  Dr.  Ramie 
quietly,  "but  the  waiter  can  remove  them  if  you 
like."  Then,  turning  round,  he  said,  "You 
can  bring  up  the  soup  now,  John,"  upon  which 
the  waiter  disappeared,  closing  the  door  softly 
behind  him. 

Hartley  sat  facing  this  door,  and  as  soon  as 
he  saw  it  shut  he  observed:  "That  fellow  was 
no  good  a  couple  of  weeks  ago  when  we  were 
in  here.  Surprising  how  quick  they  learn. 

Great  country  for Holy  smoke !  What's 

that?" 

Hartley  had  started  from  his  seat  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  slowly  opening  door.  A  look 
of  absolute  terror  was  on  his  face.  The  others 
instantly  followed  his  gaze  and  beheld  a  tall 
man  with  a  grey  mustache,  who  stood  just  with- 


Cab  No.  44  305 

in  the  door  and  greeted  them  with  a  nervous 
little  laugh.  Douglas  gave  a  jump  that  shook 
everything  on  the  table,  while  the  doctor  simply 
gripped  the  back  of  his  chair.  Groscup  alone 
remained  unmoved  until  Douglas  found  his 
voice. 

"Paul  Maynard!  By  all  that's  good  and 
holy!" 

The  new  arrival  advanced  into  the  room  with 
his  hand  extended.  "Just  in  time  I  see,"  he 
said.  "How  do,  Douglas?  Hello,  Hartley." 
As  the  two  men  stood  there,  their  mouths  open, 
their  hands  trembling  with  fright,  Maynard 
turned  to  Dr.  Ramie.  "A  friend  of  yours,  doc- 
tor?" he  said,  nodding  toward  the  lawyer. 
"May  I  have  the  pleasure?" 

After  the  introduction,  which  Groscup  seemed 
to  look  upon  as  some  unexplained  joke,  May- 
nard sat  down  at  one  of  the  vacant  places  at 
the  table  and  tried  to  appear  at  ease,  although 
it  was  evident  that  he  was  very  nervous.  The 
silence  for  a  minute  was  painful. 

"Nothing  wrong,  I  hope?"  he  asked,  look- 
ing round  at  them  all  and  tossing  off  a  cocktail. 

Hartley  and  Douglas  finally  summoned  cour- 
age enough  to  sit  down  again,  still  staring  at  the 
unexpected  guest.  Hartley  was  the  first  to  re- 
cover himself. 


306  Cab  No.  44 

"So  you're  alive,  eh?  Lost  your  money  but 
saved  your  life." 

"How  about  that  ring?"  blurted  Douglas,  as- 
sured that  he  was  not  talking  to  a  ghost. 

"You  will  have  to  ask  some  one  else  about 
that,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Maynard,  with  the 
same  nervous  little  laugh.  He  had  evidently 
not  quite  recovered  his  equanimity,  in  spite  of 
his  efforts  to  control  himself. 

"But  where  on  earth  have  you  been,  and  what 
happened  to  you?"  . 

"Why,  my  dear  fellow,  I've  been  down  in 
the  West  Indies.  Had  to  take  a  boat  home  that 
got  here  on  Thursday,  so  as  to  be  in  time  for 
to-night,  you  know.  So  I  ran  down  to  Atlantic 
City  until  this  afternoon.  New  York  is  just 
the  same  old  place,  I  see."  And  then  he  gave 
another  nervous  little  laugh. 

"But  what  about  Fletcher,  and  the  cab,  and 

the "  Hartley  stopped  suddenly,  -and 

winked  at  the  others  as  the  waiter  entered  the 
room.  When  the  waiter  had  disappeared  again, 
Hartley  repeated  his  question,  adding,  "And 
the  stolen  pocket-book?" 

"Why,  you  see,  the  fact  is,  there  was  some 
delay  in  getting  started.  And  then  Fletcher 
had  some  explanations  to  make  in  the  cab  be- 
fore proceeding.  As  these  were  perfectly  satis- 


Cab  No.  44  307 

factory,  I  gave  him  the  pocket-book,  and  we 
went  on  to  the  dock  where  the  cab  was  found. 
I  supposed  he  would  bring  the  pocket-book 
here,  as  agreed." 

"So  he  did,"  remarked  the  doctor.  "I  have 
it  in  my  pocket  now." 

"But  the  body  in  the  river,  and  the  blood  in 
the  cab,  and  all  that?"  demanded  Douglas, 
almost  below  his  breath. 

"That  was  all  a  put-up  job,  my  dear  fellow. 
You  see  Fletcher  had  an  idea  that  per- 
haps some  one  might  give  the  thing  away  to 
the  police."  Hartley  turned  a  shade  paler,  and 
toyed  nervously  with  his  fork.  "But  he  said 
that  if  it  looked  like  a  murder,  no  matter  what 
financial  interest  any  one  might  have  in  the  re- 
sult, he  would  probably  keep  his  mouth  shut 
after  he  had  consulted  a  lawyer." 

"Egad!  That  fits  me!"  remarked  Douglas, 
"Eh,  old  man?"  slapping  Groscup  on  the  back. 
Hartley  was  gradually  becoming  livid,  and  was 
conscious  that  the  doctor's  eye  was  upon  him. 
He  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak. 

"Most  interesting,"  remarked  Groscup. 
"But  may  I  ask,  Mr.  Maynard,  how  the  cab 
came  to  be  all  bloody,  and  how  the  body  came 
to  be  found  in  the  river  at  that  precise  spot?" 

"We  had  the  blood  with  us  in  a  demijohn, 


30&  Cab  No.  44 

and  as  for  the  body,  I  believe  there  were  only 
parts  of  a  body.  We  threw  them  in  the  river 
after  we  had  soaked  the  cab." 

"Yes,  egad!"  exclaimed  Douglas,  interrupt- 
ing. "And  that  reminds  me  of  something  that 
I  have  lain  awake  nights  thinking  about.  Who 
drove  that  cab?  Why  could  not  the  police  find 
him,  even  if  they  didn't  catch  any  one  else?" 

Maynard  gave  another  little  laugh.  "The 
driver  supplied  the  demijohn  and  the  limbs,  I 
believe,"  and  he  looked  hard  at  Dr.  Ramie,  who 
was  turning  very  red  in  the  face  as  he  found 
every  one  at  the  table  gazing  at  him. 

"I  may  as  well  own  up,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
doctor,  smiling,  "I  drove  the  cab." 

Groscup  relieved  the  situation  by  bursting 
into  a  loud  laugh,  and  before  any  one  could 
say  another  word  the  waiter  entered  the  room 
with  the  fish.  When  he  disappeared  again,  the 
doctor  resumed: 

"Yes,  I  stole  the  cab  from  in  front  of  my 
own  door,  after  a  confederate  had  coaxed  the 
driver  inside  to  have  a  drink.  It  cost  me  fifty 
to  fix  that  up  with  the  stable;  but  when  I  collect 
that  hundred  from  Hartley,  I  shall  still  be  fifty 
ahead.  I  changed  the  number  on  the  lamps,  as 
directed  by  my  confederate,  and  just  there  I 
made  a  big  slip,  which  I  thought  at  one  time 


Cab  No.  44  309 

would  spoil  the  whole  thing.  The  detectives 
said  the  numbers  were  changed  with  a  mixture 
of  liquid  glue  and  ink.  If  they  had  examined 
it  carefully  they  would  have  found  it  was  col- 
lodion and  ink,  and  they  would  have  known  that 
it  was  a  doctor  that  had  done  it.  By  tracfng 
the  cab  to  the  house  in  front  of  which  it  was 
stolen,  they  would  have  had  me  dead  to  rights, 
especially  as  I  still  had  some  of  the  mixture  on 
the  mantel.  But  the  smartest  detectives  some- 
times overlook  important  clues." 

"Of  course  they  do,"  interrupted  Douglas. 
"That's  what  I  was  betting  on." 

"By  a  fortunate  chance,"  continued  the  doc- 
tor, "we  had  an  amputation  that  afternoon  at 
the  hospital.  Arm  and  leg  run  over  close  to 
the  hip  and  shoulder.  After  taking  off  the 
limbs,  I  had  an  idea,  and  I  just  hacked  off  the 
injured  parts  and  put  the  rest  in  a  bag.  These 
went  into  the  cab  with  the  demijohn.  That 
was  human  blood  in  the  cab,  all  right." 

"But  I  can't  understand  why  no  one  recog- 
nized that  ring,"  persisted  Douglas. 

"No  one  had  seen  it  for  twenty  years  but 
you  and  Maynard.  It  was  knocking  around  in 
a  drawer  in  my  office  ever  since  I  can  remem- 
ber. Fletcher  saw  it,  and  it  was  Fletcher's 
suggestion  that  Maynard  should  put  it  on  and 


310  Cab  No.  44 

call  your  attention  to  it  that  night  at  dinner. 
Then  he  gave  it  to  me,  and  I  put  it  on  the  arm 
we  threw  in  the  river.  He  did  that  to  be  sure 
that  you  would  think  it  was  Maynard  that  was 
murdered,  and  keep  mum  about  it." 

"We  kept  mum,  all  right.  Eh,  Groscup?" 
laughed  Douglas,  slapping  the  lawyer  on  the 
back  again. 

Groscup  smiled,  and  looked  at  Hartley,  who 
was  very  quiet.  "This  is  very  interesting, 
gentlemen,"  he  remarked,  "but  as  a  lawyer  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  kernel  of  the  matter  has 
not  yet  been  touched  upon.  Where  is  Fletcher 
himself?" 

"That  is  a  question  I  am  unable  to  answer," 
said  Maynard,  with  another  nervous  little 
laugh.  "He  did  not  make  a  confidant  of  me. 
Perhaps  the  doctor  knows.  He  was  with 
Fletcher  most  of  the  time  we  were  hatching  up 
our  little  scheme." 

"Give  you  my  word  of  honor,  gentlemen;  I 
haven't  seen  him  nor  heard  of  him  since  the 
moment  he  went  out  of  this  room  after  hand- 
ing me  that  pocket-book." 

"You'll  find  him  in  the  station-house  to- 
morrow morning,"  said  Hartley^  dryly. 
"They've  caught  the  whole  gang.  Since  you 
fellows  are  all  making  a  clean  breast  of  it,  I 


Cab  No.  44  311 

may  as  well  tell  you  what  I  know.  Fletcher 

was "  The  waiter  appearing  at  the  door 

with  a  tray  full  of  dishes,  Hartley  thought  it 
best  to  wait  until  he  had  gone  out  again. 
"Waiters  will  talk,"  he  remarked. 

"It's  nearly  half  past  eight,  and  I  claim  the 
stakes,"  observed  Douglas,  regardless  of  the 
presence  of  the  waiter. 

"Not  on  your  life,"  snapped  Hartley.  "If 
they  have  that  gang  in  jail,  he's  among  them; 
and  they  were  arrested  before  eight  o'clock;  so 
I  win." 

"What  have  we  to  do  with  any  'gang'?" 
asked  the  doctor,  quietly.  Hartley  nodded 
toward  the  waiter,  as  if  to  warn  the  doctor  not 
to  talk  in  his  presence.  "Go  on.  Don't  mind1 
him,"  said  Dr.  Ramie.  "What  have  we  to  do 
with  that  gang?" 

"Why,  Fletcher's  one  of  the  Ardmore  gang. 
I  may  as  well  tell  you,  since  you  insist  on  it. 
He  called  himself  Fletcher,  and  Walton,  and 
Maxwell,  and  all  sorts  of  names.  He's  one  of 
the  slickest  forgers  on  earth.  You  will  never 
see  Maynard's  five  thousand  dollars  again;  you 
can  bet  on  that.  But  you  will  find  Fletcher  in 
the  calaboose  to-morrow  morning," 

"My  five  thousand  dollars !"  exclaimed  May- 
nard.  "What  are  you  talking  about?" 


312'  Cab  No.  44 

"Didn't  he  take  five  thousand  dollars  from 
you  in  that  pocket-book?" 

Maynard  lay  back  and  laughed.  The  doctor 
joined  him. 

"Shall  I  serve  ze  salad  now,  gentlemen?" 
demanded  the  waiter,  impassively. 

"Yes.  Serve  anything  you  like,"  snapped 
Hartley.  "Bring  in  two  more  bottles  first." 

"I  confess  that  I  think  Mr.  Douglas  is 
right,"  remarked  the  doctor,  as  he  helped  the 
waiter  to  lift  the  salad  bowl.  "We  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  any  Ardmore  gang.  As  it  is  now 
more  than  half-past  the  hour,  I  shall  hand  over 
the  stakes." 

"If  Fletcher  is  among  that  gang  that  was 
arrested  this  afternoon,  I  will  hold  you  respon- 
sible," shouted  Hartley,  shaking  his  finger  at  the 
doctor.  Then  he  sat  back  and  looked  hot  and 
uncomfortable. 

"You  shall  have  your  money  if  he  was  caught 
before  eight  o'clock  this  evening,"  said  Doug- 
las reassuringly.  "In  the  meantime,  doctor,  I 
should  like  to  feel  the  feel  of  that  little  check, 
if  you  please." 

The  doctor  pulled  out  the  red  leather  pocket- 
book  and  took  from  it  the  two  checks.  One 
was  the  original  given  him  by  Douglas;  the 
other  was  Hartley's. 


Cab  No.  44 313 

"Just  endorse  that  to  my  order,  please,"  said 
Douglas,  pushing  the  check  back  toward  Dr. 
Ramie  after  he  had  examined  it.  "I  see  it's  pay- 
able to  you." 

The  waiter,  who  was  right  behind  Douglas, 
picked  up  the  check  and  handed  it  to  the  doc- 
tor, stooping  toward  him  at  the  same  time,  and 
saying  loud  enough  for  them  all  to  hear:  "I 
should  much  prefer  it  if  you  would  endorse  that 
check  to  me,  according  to  agreement." 

Every  man  at  the  table  started  at  the  sudden 
change  in  the  waiter's  voice  and  manner.  Even 
Groscup  had  his  mouth  wide  open.  Again 
Douglas  was  the  first  to  recognize  the  intruder. 

"Milton  Fletcher!  As  I'm  a  living  sinner!" 
he  shouted,  jumping  out  of  his  chair.  "Give  me 
your  hand,  Fletcher.  Ardmore  gang,  eh? 
Rats!  What  a  lark!  What  a  police  force! 
Say,  Hartley,  you're  easy.  This  is  too  good." 

After  the  first  outburst  of  surprise  had  sub- 
sided, the  erstwhile  waiter  took  it  very  calmly. 
He  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  and  explain 
matters  to  the  proprietor,  who  came  back  with 
him,  and  laughed  at  the  gentlemen's  little  prac- 
tical joke;  but  reproved  them  for  depriving  him 
of  a  very  promising  waiter. 

"Now  tell  us  where  you  have  been  all  this 


314  Cab  No.  44 

time,  Fletcher,"  demanded  the  doctor,  when 
order  was  restored. 

"I  have  never  been  out  of  this  house  since  I 
handed  you  that  pocket-book.  I  went  down  to 
the  wash-room  and  shaved  off  my  beard  and 
mustache.  Coming  up  again,  the  proprietor 
was  standing  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  and  I  could 
not  very  well  pass  him  at  that  time  of  the  morn- 
ing without  saying  something.  As  I  could  not 
think  of  anything  else  at  the  moment,  I  asJced 
him  if  he  wanted  any  waiters.  To  my  surprise 
he  looked  me  over,  said  some  complimentary 
things  about  my  appearance,  and  we  struck  a 
bargain  at  once.  I  have  not  been  outside  the 
door  since." 

"Why  you  rascal,"  said  the  doctor,  "you  were 
in  this  room  about  three  weeks  ago  when  we 
were  here  with  Mr.  Groscup?" 

"Yes,  and  I  saw  that  you  did  not  recognize 
me." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

A  GENTLE  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  new 
waiter  appeared,  to  say  that  there 
was  a  gentleman  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Hartley.  It  was  McBride.  He  had  excused  him- 
self at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  telling  Helen 
that  he  would  return  almost  as  soon  as  the  cur- 
tain went  up,  but  that  he  must  take  an  important 
message  to  Mr.  Hartley. 

Hartley  introduced  him  with  a  simple  wave 
of  the  hand,  a  sort  of  inclusive  introduction. 
"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "this  is  my  confidential 
man,  Mr.  James  McBride.  On  Monday,  he 
will  be  a  junior  partner,"  slapping  him  on  the 
back,  as  he  noted  the  blush  that  rose  to  the  new- 
comer's cheeks. 

"That  letter,  sir,"  the  young  man  whispered. 

"Oh,  hang  the  letter.  That's  all  over  with." 
Noticing  the  evident  look  of  astonishment  on 
the  young  man's  face,  he  continued:  "You  know 
the  doctor  and  Mr.  Groscup,  and  Mr.  Doug- 
las. This  gentleman,"  pointing  to  Maynard, 
"is  the  man  that  Johnson  said  killed  some  one." 
Maynard  stood  up  and  smilingly  shook  hands 
with  McBride,  who  was  staring  at  him  blankly. 
315 


316  Cab  No.  44 

"And  now  shake  hands  with  the  man  Johnson 
said  he  killed,"  continued  Hartley,  evidently  en- 
joying his  little  joke.  "This  is  Mr.  Walton, 
or  Mr.  Fletcher,  or  Mr.  Maxwell  or  some  other 
old  name " 

"Hardy  Maxwell  is  correct,"  said  the  erst- 
while waiter,  standing  up  and  shaking  hands 
with  the  stupefied  McBride,  who  seemed  actually 
to  shrink  from  him. 

"Sit  right  down,  James,  and  join  us,"  said 
Hartley,  "we're  going  to  make  a  night  of  it, 
even  if  I  have  lost  the  biggest  bet  I  ever  made. 
You  shall  be  a  junior  partner  on  Monday. 
That's  no  joke,  my  boy." 

"Look  here.  I'm  not  going  to  be  outdone 
in  the  junior  partnership  business,"  interrupted 
Douglas.  "That  is,  not  if  Mr.  Fletcher — I  beg 
pardon,  Maxwell,  did  you  say? — is  agreeable. 
You  have  ten  thousand  dollars  capital  to  start 
with,  you  know,"  he  added,  smiling  at  Hardy. 

"I  should  be  delighted,"  was  all  Maxwell 
could  say,  his  face  all  smiles,  "provided  you  will 
teach  me  the  business." 

The  doctor  rapped  for  order. 

"There  is  still  one  thing  to  be  cleared  up," 
he  said,  looking  at  Maxwell.  "Why  all  these 
false  names?" 

"I  can  explain  that,  gentlemen,"   remarked 


Cab  No.  44  317. 

McBride  quietly,  disregarding  the  warning 
finger  that  Hartley  gave  him,  although  Hartley 
himself  did  not  know  what  was  coming.  "Be- 
fore Mr.  Maxwell  resigned  his  position  to  carry 
out  this  little  joke,  for  I  see  that  is  what  it  must 
have  been,  he  was  one  of  the  leading  detectives 
in  Scotland  Yard.  To  him  and  to  Mrs. 
Stewart,  whom  some  of  you  gentlemen  have 
met" — this  with  a  wicked  smile  at  Hartley  and 
Groscup,  both  of  whom  looked  guilty — "and 
who  is  one  of  the  smartest  women  detectives  in 
the  world,  is  due  the  credit  of  arresting  the  Ard- 
more  gang." 

Groscup  wanted  to  get  under  the  table. 
Hartley  took  a  big  drink  before  he  ventured  to 
remark,  aside: 

"That's  another  thing  that  Johnson  got  up- 
side down.  He  got  the  police  and  the  Ardmore 
gang  as  badly  mixed  as  the  victim  and  the  mur- 
derer, it  seems." 

"That  is  about  as  close  as  private  detectives 
usually  come  to  it,"  remarked  the  lawyer,  feel- 
ing rather  silly  at  the  recollection  of  his  examina- 
tion of  Mrs.  Stewart  at  the  cafe. 

Hartley  again  urged  McBride  to  sit  down. 
"I  can't;  I  am  at  the  theatre  round  the  corner 
with  a  friend,"  McBride  explained.  "But  I 


318  Cab  No.  44 

should  like  to  speak  a  word  to  Mr.  Maxwell 
before  I  go." 

The  two  men  went  into  the  hall  together,  and 
when  Maxwell  returned  to  the  room,  he  looked 
decidedly  pleased  about  something. 

"I  am  ahead  of  all  you  fellows  in  one  thing, 
I  know,"  said  Hartley.  "Fill  up  your  glasses 
and  I'll  give  you  a  toast.  We  will  all  drink  to 
Miss  Ohlstrom.  Stand  up  now,  and  every  glass 
goes  over  the  shoulder  empty." 

"I'll  not  only  drink  to  that;  but  I'll  have  a 
guess  at  what  it  means,  and  I'll  promise  to  fur- 
nish the  house  for  a  wedding  present.  Am  I 
right?"  laughed  Douglas. 

"I  should  like  to  make  a  few  remarks,"  said 
Groscup,  after  they  had  done  the  honors  to  that 
toast,  still  standing.  "I  have  had  occasion  to 
speak  to  both  my  clients  here  about  the  evil 
results  that  sometimes  arise  from  after-dinner 
episodes.  But  this  one  seems  to  have  been  a 
happy  exception.  Here  we  have  two  young 
men  considerably  advanced  in  their  business 
prospects." 

"And  a  nice  fat  fee  earned  by  the  lawyer," 
interrupted  the  doctor  with  a  laugh. 

"And  a  doctor  getting  fifty  dollars  for  steal- 
ing a  cab,"  retorted  the  lawyer,  bowing. 

"And  two  private  detectives  working  a  great 


Cab  No.  44  319 

snap  for  a  month.  But  that's  my  affair,"  put  in 
Hartley. 

"Now  gentlemen,"  continued  the  lawyer,  fill- 
ing up  his  glass,  and  motioning  the  others  to 
do  likewise,  "I  want  this  little  after-dinner  joke 
to  have  a  still  more  happy  outcome " 

"We've  had  that  toast,"  interrupted  Hartley. 

"I  wish,  gentlemen,"  continued  the  lawyer, 
ignoring  the  remark,  "that  one  of  the  results 
of  this  little  affair  may  be  that  we  shall  see  Mr. 
Hartley  and  Mr.  Douglas  bury  the  hatchet,  and 
be  the  best  of  friends  in  future." 

Douglas  set  down  his  glass  and  extended  his 
hand  to  Hartley,  who,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, grasped  it  warmly.  "Hartley,  old  man," 
he  said,  "let's  pull  together  instead  of  apart, 
and  you'll  catch  up  that  ten  thousand  inside 
thirty  days." 

Then  they  all  sang  "He's  a  jolly  good  fel- 
low," and  got  very  merry.  Douglas  announced 
that  he  wished  to  say  a  word  for  the  police. 

"They  never  had  a  chance  in  this  case,"  he 
remarked.  "They  didn't  know  what  they  were 
looking  for,  let  alone  where  to  look  for  it.  Let 
us  drink  to  their  better  success  in  more  impor- 
tant cases." 

A  few  minutes  before  eleven,  Maxwell,  who 
wai  evidently  watching  the  time  ncrvp.uslyr 


320  Cab  No.  44 

begged  to  be  excused.  He  had  an  engagement 
which  he  must  keep.  He  hoped  to  see  them  all 
there  as  his  guests  the  following  Saturday  night. 
"Good-by  and  good  luck,"  they  shouted  in 
chorus,  as  he  went  out.  "Don't  get  pinched," 
was  Douglas'  parting  sally  as  the  door  closed. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

MR.  McBRIDE  returned  to  his  seat  in 
the  theatre  looking  very  grave.  In 
spite  of  his  efforts,  he  could  not  re- 
spond to  his  companion's  gay  spirits,  although 
he  tried  to  smile  when  she  looked  at  him.  She 
laughed  at  the  by-play  of  the  already  married 
couple  in  the  piece.  She  cried  at  the  lovers' 
parting,  and  she  waved  her  handkerchief  madly 
at  the  happy  ending.  It  was  perfectly  lovely, 
she  declared,  although  she  was  inwardly  bitterly 
disappointed  that  McBride  had  brought  no  news 
from  the  dinner. 

McBride  had  been  consulting  his  watch  very 
often  toward  the  end.  They  were  among  the 
last  to  leave  the  theatre,  and  when  they  were 
near  the  door,  he  said  he  had  left  his  opera 
glasses  on  the  seat.  He  begged  her  to  wait 
a  moment  while  he  recovered  them.  He  seemed 
to  be  a  long  time  finding  out  that  they  were  in 
his  pocket  all  the  time,  and  the  attendants  were 
beginning  to  turn  out  the  lights. 

When  they  reached  the  side  lobby,  it  was 
empty,  except  for  a  tall  young  man  who  stood 
321 


322  Cab  No.  44 

there,  peering  out  into  the  night  through  the 
glass  doors. 

"I  think  that  is  our  carriage  outside,"  re- 
marked McBride,  stopping  to  adjust  his  coat. 
She  noticed  he  was  very  pale. 

"Yes,  that  is  our  carriage,"  he  repeated  ner- 
vously, and  so  loudly  that  the  remark  seemed 
intended  for  someone  else.  Then,  extending  his 
hand  to  her  as  he  removed  his  hat,  he  added 
quietly,  his  voice  choking  with  suppressed 
emotion : 

"I  have  had  a  delightful  evening,  Miss  Ohl- 
strom.  Might  I  offer  to  repay — in  some  slight 
measure — the  pleasure  you  have  given  me?" 

He  stopped  short.  She  could  not  help  see- 
ing the  unmistakable  sob  that  was  choking  him. 
He  gripped  her  hand  hard  as  he  went  on : 

"I  have — kept  my  promise — to  you.  I  have 
found  him  for  you,"  motioning  toward  the  tall 
young  man  who  was  now  stepping  hastily  toward 
them.  "He  will  see  you  home." 

As  he  released  her  hand  and  plunged  through 
the  door  into  the  darkness  outside,  she  turned, 
with  a  startled  look,  to  the  tall  young  man  with 
the  black  hair,  who  was  holding  his  hat  in  his 
left  hand  and  extending  his  right  with  a  smile. 

"Don't  you  know  me,  Helen?"  he  said. 
"This  is  Hardy,"  And  the  next  moment  she 


Cab  No.  44  323 

was  in  his  arms,  hardly  knowing  whether  to 
laugh  or  cry. 

A  minute  later  they  were  in  the  carriage,  roll- 
ing down  the  Great  White  Way  toward  the 
Bridge. 

"Now,"  she  said  decisively,  "you  shan't  kiss 
me  any  more  until  you  give  a  full  account  of 
yourself.  "Where  on  earth  have  you  been  all 
this  time?" 

"In  New  York.  But  that  is  too  long  a  story 
to  tell  you  now.  I  stayed  here  so  that  you 
should  not  have  to  come  to  me.  The  bride- 
groom has  come  for  his  bride,  as  you  wished  it 
to  be." 


THE    END 


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